


The Curtis Method

by ScribeShan



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: A little Waige in later chapters, Angst, Collins aftermath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Post 2x24, Psychological trauma and recovery, Relationship(s), Romance, Some Fluff, Summer Hiatus Prediction Fic, Thoughts on what's next for Quintis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 109,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeShan/pseuds/ScribeShan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dodged death, but not destruction. The team's experience with Collins has unexpected and lasting effects for Toby, Happy, and the rest of the team. This multi-part fic will explore their recovery, and how Toby and Happy's relationship proceeds from where the finale left it. Hint: For Happy and Toby, that's going to involve a little role reversal to reboot their dynamic.</p><p>I'm not sure you can call it a prediction fic, but it's an "attempting to fix Quintis" and an "occupy my mind on a very long hiatus" fic. ;) My first fic in this fandom -- it just wouldn't leave me alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing Yet Has Really Sunk In, Looks Like it Always Did.

_Previously on the season finale…_

_“Sly, did he pick it up last night?”_

_“Yes.”_

_"So he got snatched when he was getting a ring.”_

_“That doesn’t make it your fault.”_

_“It kinda does.”_

_________________

_“Happy? I’m sorry. I love you and I always will.”_

_“You’re not saying goodbye to me, Doc.”_

_________________

_“Toby, we’ll be to you in thirty seconds!”_

_“I don’t have 30 seconds! Happy, I love you!”_

_________________

_“I’ve loved you since I can’t remember when, and I’m gonna love you ’til I can’t forget how. Will you please marry me?”_

_“No.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“I can’t. I’m married to someone else. I’m sorry.”_

_“Happy, what —”_

_“Please…don’t follow me.”_

_________________

_“What matters in life is love! Mine just walked out the door; I’m dying inside! I would give anything to make her come back here and say yes.”_

 

* * *

  **Chapter 1**

**nothing yet has really sunk in, looks like it always did. - peter gabriel, 'i grieve'**

 

_Monday: Three Days Later_

Toby shifted the throw cushions that surrounded him on the sofa, trying to find a position that relieved some of the persistent ache in his neck. Nothing worked. He huffed in frustration and forced himself to be still, letting his eyes methodically wander the tiny waiting room. The gentle ticking of the clock on the far wall helped to center him, take his mind of the soreness that had permeated damn near every part of him for the past few days. He took in the calming earth tones of the furniture, the lamps which bathed the room in a golden glow, the coffee table piled high with back issues of _Psychology Today_ , the small tabletop fountain near the door. He allowed himself a smug quirk of his lips. “Figures,” he whispered to himself. “Cliché, right down to the comfy pillows and the soothing repetitive background noise.”

A door on the back wall opened and a brunette in her late forties emerged. She glanced around the otherwise empty waiting room, then leaned against the doorframe, studying him carefully, while Toby didn’t move an inch.

“Doctor Curtis?”

Toby barely raised his eyebrows in response.

“I’m told your bosses think you might be nuts, and they want me to find out for sure.”

His eyebrows shot higher. _OK, so maybe not_ _completely_ _cliché._

She took a step away from the door, furrowing her brow. “You _are_ Tobias Curtis?”

“Yep.”

She faked a relieved smile. “Thank God. If you’d been my partner’s 4:15 new patient consult for paranoia, _that_ would have been awkward.”

Toby cracked a lopsided grin. “Damn, I like you already.”

“I took one look at that hat and I said to myself, ‘This is a man who can appreciate the unconventional,’” she extended her hand. “Just a little attempt at an icebreaker. Michelle Bissell.”

“Toby Curtis,” he said, standing, and he couldn’t help but wince as his muscles protested.

“Can I help —”

“No, I’m fine,” he forced a smile. “It’s fine. Let’s do this.”

* * *

“Please sit anywhere you like,” Bissell said as she closed the door behind them. “Agent Gallo mentioned you’re nursing a neck injury; the recliner has excellent support. Or the club chair will help you maintain proper alignment, if you prefer.”

“Just so happened to mention that, did he? No, thank you, the couch will be comfortable. Besides, isn’t that why I’m here? A little time on the couch?” He wandered further into the room, already analyzing the contents of the office.

Dr. Bissell nodded. “I’m sure you’re more than familiar with the spiel, so I’ll spare you. After your last case with Homeland, and taking into consideration other recent events, Agent Gallo has some concerns and as your firm’s Homeland contact, has requested you undergo a fitness-for-duty evaluation. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Ordered, is more like it,” Toby said, still scanning the office. “Here’s a question. Why you?”

“Why me?”

“A fit-for-duty eval is routine, why isn’t it being conducted by a staff psychologist at Homela…I don’t believe it,” he said, stepping toward the diplomas on the far wall.

Dr. Bissell arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Agent Gallo thought you might appreciate that.”

“My alma mater,” Toby said, coming to a stop a foot from the wall. “Cabe thought he’d sick another Harvard shrink on me in the hopes he could do an end run around my IQ.”

“I told him it wasn’t necessary.”

“Or possible,” Toby said, coming back to the center of the room. “No offense, Doc.”

“Why would I take offense to that?” Dr. Bissell shrugged. “Luckily for you, megalomania isn’t what I’ve been asked to evaluate for.”

A little puff of air through his nose, then, “You graduated Harvard Med, you’re no slouch. BU undergrad, impressive. This office building is historic, painstakingly restored, high-rent neighborhood; that waiting room was clearly done by a professional interior designer…who specializes in painfully stereotypical psychiatry waiting rooms, apparently…so you’re obviously a good businesswoman to boot. Without formal testing, I’d guess the book on you is 150, 160? Smart. Genius even. But I’ve got 20 IQ points on you, on your best day, and you knew that before I walked in the room. Now,” he turned his palms toward her in conciliation, “I promise, I’m going to try to be open and above board about this whole thing with you, but if we’re being honest, Harvard alum to Harvard alum, you’d never see anything I didn’t want you to. Cabe has no basis for ordering this eval; he’s reacting emotionally to a situation that has made him feel uncomfortable and powerless. You have no basis for not passing me, and if you did, I…to be honest?…I could make sure you didn’t catch it.”

“Dr. Curtis,” Bissell sank into a chair and indicated he should do the same, “I intend to spend most of this session being the doctor, and I intend for you to spend most of it being the patient,” a well-practiced ease and warmth permeated her tone, despite Toby’s aggressiveness. “Shrinks make the worst patients, but the sooner you get these pre-session jitters out of the way, the sooner we can get started.”

Toby squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind him. “Alright,” he said after studying her closely for a few seconds. “Let’s dig a little deeper. Your contract with Homeland can’t be nearly as lucrative as your private practice patients, and based on the exotic locales in those vacation photos,” he motioned to the bookcase behind her desk, “you’re not fronting or overextending yourself with this fancy office. You’re clearly not hurting for clients, or revenue. You are living well, you and…Mr. Dr. Bissell.” He turned away from the photos, and held up an index finger. “But…a Harvard-trained behaviorist would notice the childhood photo on your desk, the one of you in front of a working-class home with your parents. You, Michelle, are very impressive. You have risen above your raising, but all working-class kids who do so carry residual guilt; that’s why you’ve kept your maiden name, your father’s name, which you worked so hard to get on those fancy diplomas. The work you do for Homeland, that’s about him, too. You’ve got a thing for first responders. He was a LEO, or, since you chose Homeland, maybe he’s a vet — ah, I see, he’s _both_ ,” he nodded as he read one of her microexpressions. “He was the one you were trying to fix. This work you do with Homeland, it makes you feel close to him. And it’s noble, really. But in my case, it’s completely unnecessary.”

“All this showboating — are you under the idea that I’m somehow unimpressed with you?”

Toby smiled, genuinely this time. “We just met — normally it takes people the better part of an afternoon to be unimpressed with me.” He dropped his shoulders a little, defensive posture slipping in spite of himself. “Most people can’t understand an IQ in the 170s or higher. It simply doesn’t compute. I…know how this sounds, believe me, but I simply wanted to make sure you understood the scope of the situation. I’m not your typical patient.”

“So,” he sunk onto the low couch, unable to keep a small grimace off his face as his muscles protested, “do you wanna conduct the eval, or do you wanna just sign off, save us both the hassle, and we’ll spend the hour talking about professors and Cambridge bars we had in common?” 

Dr. Bissell held his gaze for a beat. Two. Three. “You’re good,” she said finally. “Damn good. I’d been told that, but to see it in action is…really something.”

Toby felt a little of the nervous tension ease out of his chest. “Thank you,” he quipped.

Bissell leaned back in her chair. “I can only imagine how good you’d be if you weren’t in crisis.”

“I’m not in crisis,” Toby said impassively. “I told you, you’re basing that off of Cabe’s description of the situation, which is biased.”

“I don’t need Cabe Gallo’s description; I have eyes,” Bissell said. “And a wall of very fancy diplomas over there, the ones with my father’s last name on them. You’re right about that, by the way; he had no sons, so I didn’t change my name when I married. He was, in fact, a Marine and career NYPD, and a man in a great deal of pain. Just like you.”

Toby remained silent, but held her gaze.

“It’s easy for you most of the time. Between that big brain and that motormouth of yours you can tap dance around most people, keep them from getting a bead on you if you don’t want. But, as a Harvard-trained behaviorist myself, I know that your extra IQ points don’t substantially change your pathology. That’s why I told Cabe it wouldn’t matter. Any competent mental health professional could treat you. Psychologically, you’re no harder to treat than the average patient, you’re just better trained. And you were right about something else. My Homeland contract isn’t particularly lucrative. Homeland tends to send me the really tough nuts to crack, and, I have to admit, I like a challenge. I also think that someone should get the backs of the people who volunteer to run toward the danger. You’re not going to be that complicated, but you’ve got good bones. More than deserving of help, of someone to get your back.”

“I have people who have my back,” Toby offered, and hoped it didn’t sound as strangled to her as it did to his own ears.

She cocked her head to the side, tapping her pen on the edge of her pad for a moment as she waited to see if Toby would continue, but he fell silent again. “Let’s dig a little deeper. You’re a working class kid, too…and I’m hearing that hint of Brooklyn accent you never quite shook. Brighton Beach, maybe, or Coney Island? Ah,” she nodded at his nearly imperceptible change in expression, “Coney Island it is. One or both parents had issues that drove you into psychiatry too, that’s why your Harvard education walks into the room 10 minutes before you do, those… ‘fancy diplomas with your father’s name on them.’ You wrestle with feelings of inferiority, and a lot of your self-worth is steeped in your credentials. The work you do for Homeland, with your firm, Scorpion, it means the world to you, but you’re in here, acting like you could care less whether you keep your contract position because you’ve lost more in the last 72 hours than you can wrap your brain around — that big, educated brain and all its IQ points. So you’ve decided to carry on as if you don’t care if you lose one more thing. The reality is, you’re so locked into damage control you don’t know whether you’re coming or going, so you're self-sabotaging. Which, if I’m right, is hardly a first for you.”

Toby worried at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. 

“I simply want to make sure _you_ understand the scope of the situation, Toby,” she said. “You could have been describing yourself earlier, when you said Cabe was reacting emotionally to a situation that has made him feel uncomfortable and powerless.”

Toby blinked slowly, an underlying anxiety surfacing on his face as his heart climbed into his throat. “Listen, about the eval…I’m…uh, I’m sorry, my nerves got the best of me, and…I came on a little —”

Dr. Bissell shook her head. “To be honest, I expected worse.” She leaned forward. “Got all the jitters out of your system now?”

Toby slumped back against the sofa and inhaled long, hating that his breath shook on the exhale. “I guess we’ll see.” 

‘Then why don’t you tell me why you’re here? For real, this time.”

Toby squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing heavily through his nose. When he opened them again, he stared at his knees.

“Three days ago, I was kidnapped, held hostage, and nearly killed by a man who used to work for my firm, Scorpion.” He met her eyes. “You already knew that,” he said on a half-grin. “The team, my friends, they were able to mount a successful rescue, but later that night, I…experienced an upsetting personal setback, and —” he looked up and saw her expression, “ah, you know this, too. I proposed to my girlfriend who, damnedest thing, turns out is already married. But, uh, but Cabe didn’t get hysterical until I collapsed during a case this weekend due to lingering effects of a head injury I sustained during the thing,” He furrowed his brow. “And somewhere in there I got completely hammered. Maybe _don’t_ put that part in the eval for Homeland.”

Dr. Bissell nodded slowly. “Are you sure you don't want to spend the hour talking about professors and Cambridge bars we had in common?”

Toby’s smiled wanly. “I _knew_ I liked you.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Bissell said. “Start at the beginning.”


	2. Out of Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Bissell gets a little more background from Toby about the weekend after the kidnapping and proposal.

**i hear what you’re saying; i may seem out of order. nothing's quite the same now, as it ever was before her. - duncan sheik, ‘out of order’**

* * *

 

 

 

_Friday Afternoon: Three Days Earlier_

His head was spinning again. It had been spinning on and off since he’d opened his eyes and found himself tied to a chair in this godforsaken warehouse, but this time, it was _good_. This time, his head was spinning because he wasn’t going to die from a jarful of acid to the face. At least, not today.

“Talk to me,” her voice cut through the fog that seemed to be coming and going in his head. “Doc, hey,” he felt her hands brace on either side of his head and she knelt between his feet, in front of the chair. “I need you to talk to me. How bad? How bad is it?”

Finally, his blurry vision came back into focus on her, and he felt a grin split his face. “Hey there, Honey Bun.”

He watched her brow furrow. “Toby, tell me where you’re hurt.”

He shook his head, hating that he’d caused her another moment’s worry. “I’m OK, I think.” He leaned forward in the chair, back and shoulders groaning from the day’s abuse, and rested his forehead against hers as he took internal inventory. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He felt her thumbs stroke his cheeks. “You faded out on me for a second.”

He pulled back a fraction of an inch and shook his head again. “Just a little lightheaded.” Her brow furrowed further. “It’s normal,” he breathed, bringing a — _God, finally_ free — hand up to her cheek. “My blood pressure was through the roof and now it’s in freefall. The dizziness will subside when BP reaches normal range, just give it a minute.”

She laid her hand over his where it cupped her cheek, for just a moment, then took his other hand in both of hers and flipped it palm-up. “Toby, look at your hands.”

He dropped his eyes and was half-surprised to see the tremors. He hadn’t even noticed. His instant recall ability was firing on all cylinders, though, and he heard himself answering before the thought had fully formed in his head. “It’s just a little excess norepinephrine, Hap. Also normal.” 

She closed both sets of fingers around the hand she was holding and laid them all against her heart. “Tell me he didn't use that battery.”

“No,” he whispered, and she exhaled with relief. “But he wanted us all to think he was going to. Mean-spirited bastard.”

“Did he drug you, or —”

“No. Blow to the head.” He could feel her staccato, uneven breaths with the hand she still clutched to her chest. “Look at you. Would you relax, please?” He closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers, and was pleased when she released his hand, raised up on her knees and gently ran her fingers into his hair.

“You OK?” he asked against her lips.

“ _Me?_ ” she pulled back, incredulous, then nodded. “I’m great now, Doc, but don’t you _dare_ ever do that to me again.”

“You got it, babe.” She didn't admonish him for the nickname, just stared into his eyes another few seconds before pulling him toward her. He pressed a kiss to her temple and allowed himself to drift for a moment while she held him close, her hands soothing him as they ran along his spine.

“OK, we gave you two a few minutes,” Paige’s footsteps echoed loudly against the concrete floor, Sylvester in tow. “But you need to drink something, Toby.” When Toby and Happy separated, Paige pressed a bottle of water into his hands, and a kiss to his forehead. “Ambulance is on the way.”

Toby groaned around a gulp of water. “I don’t need an ambulance. Cancel.” 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Happy and Sylvester exclaimed in unison. 

“Nope,” Toby said. “As a matter of fact, did the rest of the gang take our only transportation? Because I’m _so_ ready to blow this pop stand.”

“We’ve got my car,” Paige said, eyeing him carefully. 

“I gathered your things,” Sylvester said. “Including…that…one item...we talked about,” he couldn’t help but smile.

“You think she’ll be able to crack that code, Sly? This is no longer a covert operation.” But Toby extended his hand, and Sylvester pulled him to a standing position. Toby clapped him on the shoulder. “You and your bird calls. Thanks, Pal.”

“ _You_ did it, Toby; I just picked up what you were laying down.” 

“OK,” Paige said. “Let’s go. We’ll get you checked out at the ER.”

“Don’t need it,” Toby sing-songed, wrapping an arm around Happy and leaning against her just a little as he walked, slowly, toward the door. 

Paige spun on her heel. “OK, Toby, you know what —” 

“Hey, project manager,” he pointed the water bottle at her, “did you go to medical school? What about you, Big Bird?” He swung the bottle on Sly. 

“Just to get checked out, Toby,” Happy’s voice came from near his shoulder. “You said he hit you in the head.”

“Happy, that was damn near 24 hours ago. If there was a problem, I’d already be comatose or dead.” Everyone stopped in their tracks and gaped at him. “Or…something substantially less horrifying for those of you who aren't clinically trained. There’s nothing the ER can do for cuts and bruises and a bump on the head. I’ll be laughed out of there.”

“Doc, I wish you would —”

“If I needed the ER, I would be among the very first to know,” Toby pressed a kiss to her crown. “Come on. The doctor says let’s go back to the garage. Actually, you know what? There is one pit stop I’d like to make.”

“Name it.”

* * *

_Monday: Three Days Later_

“What’s a typical immediate post-event response to the kind of trauma you experienced?” Dr. Bissell asked.

Toby shrugged. “Trauma response varies widely depending on the psyche of the individual. Immediately after the event, it is typical for trauma sufferers to be stunned, disoriented, have difficulty processing information or other stimuli. But depending on the individual, a wide range of indicators may be completely natural. For example, I experienced none of those. My responses were mostly physiological, autonomic.”

Bissell nodded. “Objectively speaking, would you consider it natural for an individual of your psychological constitution, who had experienced what you had experienced, to refuse medical treatment?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’m a doctor. I know whether or not I need medical treatment.”

“You certainly needed it the next day.”

Toby pressed his lips together, and fixed Bissell with his best psychiatrist’s glare. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

Bissell met and held his gaze.

Toby held his hands up. “I’ll admit…in the immediate aftermath, I felt such a sense of relief and happiness to have survived that I may have attributed symptoms associated with the head injury to the neurotransmitters my hypothalamus was pumping into my body as hard as it could. I may have misdiagnosed some indicators. But I _was_ fine, it wasn’t until the additional stressors piled on that the condition became exacerbated.”

Bissell nodded silently while making notes.

Toby leaned forward and spread his hands, “If I had it to do over again, I’d have gone to the ER for the checkup. OK? But given the information I had at the time my course of action was reasonable.”

Bissell looked up from her notes. “OK. But let me ask you this. Is stopping at Chucky Burger on the way back from your kidnapping also reasonable? A natural response?”

Toby threw his hands up. “I was hungry! I didn’t eat or drink a thing for almost 24 hours.”

“It’s just a little unexpected. And in light of the events that followed, it may be worth evaluating whether it was a healthy response.”

“Doc, I would have thought you would have picked up on this by now, but everything about me is a little unexpected.”

“You know, I’d noticed,” Bissell said. “Talk about what happened after you went back to the office. The garage, you call it?”

_‘I can’t. I’m married to someone else. I’m sorry.’_ “Time out,” Toby said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I’m not trying to be difficult, but this whole thing has gotten wrapped around an intensely personal issue that I’m not really comfortable…not _willing_ to discuss. It has nothing to do with this eval. I’m taking that off the table.”

“I’m empathetic to that, Toby, but we can’t parse that issue from the rest of what’s going on,” Dr. Bissell said. “What happened when you got back to the garage that night speaks to your emotional state, and informs everything that’s happened in the interim.”

“I’m not here for relationship counseling.”

“I’m not offering you any,” Bissell said. “Listen,” she spread her hands. “None of this goes in my report to Homeland. No details of what we’ve discussed, job-related or otherwise. They get a diagnosis code, and a brief narrative supporting that diagnosis code, along with a recommendation regarding your fitness for duty. Everything else is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Toby nodded. “It’s just that…I mean this is raw. Like, _really_ raw, and —”

“I don’t need you to relive your proposal to Happy, or her response,” Toby flinched involuntary at the sound of a stranger saying Happy’s name and proposal in the same sentence. “I know what you said. I know what she said. We can skip ahead, if you prefer.”

Toby squinted, then shook his head in disbelief. “How many of them did you talk to?”

“All of them.”

Toby went bolt upright. “What the _hell—”_

“A fit-for-duty eval doesn’t work if I don’t know whether the patient is being honest, with themselves and with me. It is standard to talk to the patient’s closest colleagues, especially when those people bore witness to the events in question. Cabe, Sylvester, Paige, Walter, Tim, Happy — they can offer a perspective on these past few days that even you can’t.”

Toby had been raking his hands down his face, but stopped at the mention of one name and peered at Dr. Bissell through his fingers. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“She talked to you?”

Dr. Bissell nodded. “She cares for you very deeply. She was more than willing to do anything that might help.” She closed her notebook and dropped it on the coffee table, leaning toward Toby. “They all do. They all were.”

Toby stood, and ran both hands into his hair, knocking his hat to the sofa in the process. “This,” he waved one hand around animatedly while continuing to tug at his hair with the other. “This little whim of Cabe’s is now officially humiliating.”

Dr. Bissell watched as he paced the small space, wrestling with embarrassment and indignation. She let her head fall back against her chair. “I shouldn’t tell you this,” she sighed.

Toby turned, hands on his hips. “What?”

She shrugged. “Sylvester is terrified you’re going to feel it was a betrayal for him to speak with me.” 

Toby smiled softly.

“Paige is wracked with guilt that they failed to give you the support and help you’ve always given them. Walter thinks he’s responsible for bringing your attacker into the company years ago, for not recognizing that he was unstable. Happy is a big ball of sorrow and guilt and fear and regret, and Cabe just wants to protect you, from all of it, until you've had a chance to get up off the dirt. Every one of them is taking portions, if not the entirety of this situation, on themselves, feeling that they failed you, somehow. Not one of them gave any indication, even subliminal, that you should feel shame or humiliation.”

Toby let his shoulderblades prop him against the wall as he considered what she’d said.

“Look, yesterday a former Navy SEAL called you, and I quote, ‘one tough SOB.’ They think the world of you, Toby, all of them. I’m sorry for your discomfort, but maybe it’s best you know where they all really stand. I get the impression they’re not the best at expressing themselves.”

An exhausted laugh shook Toby’s shoulders suddenly. “You don’t know the half of it.” He ground the balls of his hands into his eyes. “You really shouldn’t have told me that, you know.”

“I know. But you needed to hear it. Stop spending your limited, precious energy on being ashamed of what happened this weekend, trying to rationalize what happened this weekend. Spend that energy working the problem with me.”

“Ugh,” Toby flopped back onto the couch. “Ow.”

“180’s, huh?”

“Bite me,” Toby mumbled. “Where were we?”

“What happened after you proposed?”

_Please…don’t follow me_. “I got plastered.”

“Now there’s a natural post-event response to trauma.” She reached for her notebook and opened it again. “Talk about what happened next.”

* * *

_Early Saturday: Two Days Earlier_

The sun wasn’t up, but a few birds were already singing when Happy burst into the garage with such force that the door swung wide and hit the wall, echoing loudly. She was breathing heavily as she quickly surveyed the ground floor, but it was empty. She rested her fingertips on a mostly empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. The couch looked like it had been slept on. 

The rattling of pipes overhead got her attention. She knew that sound after so many years in this dump. The upstairs shower cutting off.

She took the stairs to the loft two at a time. “Walt?” she called when she hit the top floor, voice hoarse after the night she’d had. She cleared her throat as she made a beeline for Walter’s bathroom. “Walt? Do you know where Toby is?” she tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. “I can’t find —”

Toby stared at her, wide-eyed, freshly showered, towel slung around his waist , the comb in his hand frozen in mid-air.

Happy felt like they’d been staring at each other for an hour when she finally forced a tiny “hi” past her lips.

Toby blinked, as if he hadn’t expected the vision in front of him to speak. “Hi.”

More silence, then, Happy said the only sentence her brain could form. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Toby dropped his eyes to the sink in front of him, then raised them to his own reflection. “I’ve been right here,” he said, running the comb through his hair and forcing himself to swallow the sarcastic “right where you left me” that tried to leap from his throat.

Happy braced her arms on either side of the doorway, eyes rapidly scanning the room, as if searching for her next line. “Um…are you…you OK?” Then added a rushed, “Physically, I mean.”

“Better now that I don’t reek of tequila, kidnapping and heartbreak,” Toby said, then shook his head, seemingly regretting the statement, however soft his tone may have been. “I…” he looked over at her, but didn’t have anything more than a shrug to offer.

“It’s early. Did you get some sleep?”

“Not much.”

Happy’s brow furrowed. “You killed an entire bottle of tequila and you didn’t get any shut-eye?”

“Most of one,” Toby said, rummaging in Walter’s medicine cabinet to occupy his hands. “About 50 ounces, I’d estimate. But there are only two things I’ve ever found that can quiet my mind when it’s spinning that fast. A seat at a high-stakes card table, and you. It was an exercise in futility anyway.”

Happy chewed the inside of her lip and fought the sting in her eyes. 

“Did you sleep?” Toby asked the inside of Walter’s medicine cabinet.

_Not a wink_ , she thought, but since she didn’t trust her voice not to quaver, simply shook her head.

“Okay,” Toby said absently. He closed the medicine cabinet and turned toward Happy. “Could I…” he motioned to the space on the other side of the door, where his go-bag rested on the foot of Walter’s bed.

Happy looked over her shoulder, then stepped back. She wiped her clammy palms against her jeans as he pulled a clean set of clothes out of the bag. “Wh-where’s Walt?”

Toby met her eyes then, the ghost of a smile tugging his features. “He went to tell Paige he loves her.”

Happy’s eyes went wide. “I thought Paige was going to Tahoe.”

“She is.”

“I thought she was going to Tahoe with Tim.”

“She is.”

Her eyes grew even wider, “Oh my _God_ , Walter.”

“I know!” Toby said, and there it was. An actual tiny grin. Happy felt the knot in her chest loosen a little. But it constricted again in the next second as a new thought hit her. “They all left you here alone?”

Toby sighed as he fiddled with the contents of his go-bag. “To be fair, Sweet Pea,” he said softly, “You set the precedent on that.” 

Her jaw clenched, but she bit down on her retort. “I am sorry about that,” she ground out. 

“About what, exactly?” Toby ran a hand through his wet hair. “The leaving or the whole other mindfuck that immediately preceded the leaving?”

“Both! And so…damn much more. All of it, okay? I’m sorry for all of it!” And she was shouting now, desperate, needy, because it had taken her all night to work up the nerve to see him because she _knew_ that once she did she’d lose him for good. She’d spent the day before terrified that she’d held him, touched him, heard his voice for the last time and now, despite the fact that he was standing just a few feet away, it felt like it was happening all over again. “Toby, I just, I’m so sorry.”

Toby stared her down with eyes bright from unshed tears. “Well,” he exhaled shakily, “That makes two of us.” 

He took a step back, and he was pacing, Happy realized, but something about the sight of him walking away from her made her stomach lurch. “I can only imagine what you must be thinking,” she advanced, closing the distance between them. “Must think of me.” She recited the words she’d spent hours painstakingly choosing overnight. Words were so important to him, and she’d never known how to make them sing the way he could. “Even worse, I can only imagine what that must have felt like after what you’d just been through and, and —”

“Yeah,” Toby turned back to her, voice as harsh as she could ever remember hearing it. “If you’d told me this time yesterday that being kidnapped by that crackpot was going to be the _easiest_ part of my day…” a harsh bark of a laugh, then, “Honestly? I think the _acid_ might have been _kinder_.” 

It was so small it was barely even a sensation, in retrospect, like the snapping of a microscopic twig. But the next instant, her world was tilting wildly. “Shit,” she heard Toby mutter and felt his arms go around her, hold her tightly to his chest. “Happy, everything’s okay,” he muttered in her ear, a frantic edge to his voice. “It’s over, and we’re both okay. I’m okay.” He ran his hands along her arms, and Happy buried her face in his chest as a few silent sobs shook her shoulders. “Don’t you wander off on me,” Toby continued to coax in her ear. “Happy, everything is _fine_. Everyone is just _fine_. Stay with me, come on.”

She splayed her hands on his chest, only able to find the courage to stare at his collarbone. “You hate me,” she croaked.

“I am madly in love with you; it is literally impossible for me to hate you,” Toby cooed in her ear as he rubbed her back. “I’m just pissed as hell at you. Here, sit down,” he lowered her to the edge of Walter’s bed.

She shoved him in the chest so hard that he nearly toppled over. “Ow!”

“Jerk.”

“Yes, I know. I’m so sorry, Happy.”

“I mean I know I’m the one who’s…but you don’t get to say things like that!” It was little more than a harsh whisper. “I thought I was going to have to watch you…right in front of me!”

“I was a world-class asshole for saying that,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I need to blow off  a little steam, I think.”

“I mean you have every right to be pissed, you have every right to hate me, but just…don’t _say_ things like that!”

“I’m sorry,” he held up his hands in surrender. “Okay?”

She exhaled, then nodded. “I’m sorry, too.” 

“I know that, Happy. I _don’t_ hate you, Hap.”

She swallowed. “But you’re pissed at me.”

He fixed her with a serious look. “So pissed off I can’t see straight, Happy. I mean, s _o_ pissed off I _literally_ can’t see straight.”

She bit her lower lip. “So what does that mean? As far as…”

Toby shook his head. “I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head. “I just…I don’t know. For starters, I need data,” he raised his eyebrows at her.

She nodded, the dread she’d felt when she set out to find him returning anew.

He sighed and hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. “And ibuprofen. I need a mountain of ibuprofen.”

She pressed her lips together. “No one’s here,” she said. “It’s 5:30 in the morning.”

Toby sighed heavily. “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> 1\. I could be on board with the season finale we got, but if they were going to leave us here over a five-month hiatus, I think we deserved a mushy reunion scene before the proposal hit the fan. So I wrote one that was episode-compliant.
> 
> 2\. Is it weird if you're driven to distraction by your own shirtless Toby fic? Asking for a friend.


	3. Good As It Was Bound to Be, There’s Something About You and Me That’s Negative in Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy and Toby have their first discussion about her big revelation.

**i think i’ve been wrong enough to know when i’m right, so put up a fight if you must but we know that our trust is undone. - eric hutchinson, ‘it hasn’t been long enough’**

* * *

_Saturday Morning_

Happy set a bottle of ibuprofen on the kitchen table downstairs, followed by a glass of water. Toby came downstairs and dug around in his medical supplies, coming into the kitchen with a small tube from his kit and last night’s tequila bottle.

“The ‘Patented Curtis Hangover Cure,’ I forgot.”

“It works,” he said, and she found herself loathing the awkwardness between them, that they could barely look at each other. “Although I might not get the best results this time; I should have done the first two steps last night.” He tapped four ibuprofen into his hand. 

“Should you take that —”

He gave her a look so angry that it startled her. “You think I don’t know how many of these I can safely take?”

She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

He quickly downed the entire glass of water, and walked to the sink, filling a coffee mug with water and popping it in the microwave. He opened the cabinet. “Have you been crying?”

She shrugged, staring blankly at a spot on the table. “I guess.”

A box of tea and jar of honey appeared on the table in front of her, followed by the mug of steaming water. She looked up at him. He pushed the box toward her.  “Your vocal cords are inflamed. It’ll help.”

Idly, she wondered if tea would still help if she cried until she broke into a million little pieces. “Thanks, Doc.”

He nodded once, then grabbed the tequila bottle by the neck. He took a step back from the table, unscrewing the cap and holding it as far away as he could.

“You're really gonna do that?”

“The Curtis Hangover Cure does not work without a little hair of the dog,” he said, breathing deeply. “Okay. Step Three.”

He took a big swig of the tequila, then slammed the bottle in the trash with disgust. “Blegh, be gone.”

He opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, taking a gulp from the bottle to mask the taste. “Don’t tell Sly.”

She quirked a corner of her mouth and shook her head.

He opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of corn, tossing it to the table. He sat, then Happy saw a funny look cross his face and he stood again, quickly. He flipped the chair backwards and straddled it, reaching for the tube he’d brought over.

“What’s that?” she asked as she fished her tea bag out of the mug.

“A salve made from arnica. It’s a plant in the sunflower family,” he unscrewed the cap, “that reduces bruising and alleviates muscle soreness.”

Happy closed her eyes and swallowed, hard, as she fought a fresh wave of guilt. “I guess you’re pretty sore.”

“Some. It’ll be worse tomorrow. But I’m also kinda banged up,” he lifted his left hand and began to apply to salve to the the outside of his forearm.

Happy’s face contorted and she caught his wrist in her hands. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed.

Toby twisted his forearm to better look at purple bruise that painted the side, running most of the length between his elbow and wrist. “Yeah, I guess that surfaced overnight.”

“Are you sure it’s not broken?”

“Positive. It’s just a contusion. I can barely feel it, didn’t even know it was there until the shower. It just looks gruesome.”

“How did you…” and her breath was coming short and shallow now, mind racing with images of Toby being beaten by Collins in that warehouse, unable to fight back, or run, and panic nearly overtook her. “What the hell did he do?”

“He didn’t do this, Hot Stuff, you did.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Happy,” he laid a hand on her arm where it rested on the table, and gave her the smallest smile. “I was tackled by the world’s tiniest linebacker. We went head over heels onto that concrete floor, and I couldn’t break my fall in the least. All my weight came down on this arm. I can't believe you're not sporting the same kinds of bruises.” And it wasn't until then that it occurred to Happy that she might be, because all she'd been able to feel for the past 24 hours was pain.  

He squeezed her arm. “Hey, I’d let you do it 1,000 more times, considering the alternative…” he trailed off, staring into her eyes. “You saved my life yesterday.”

“I…ruined your life yesterday.”

Toby dragged a hand over his face. “God, it’s all just so much.” 

Happy nodded. “I know.” 

The silence stretched between them, until Toby flipped the bag of frozen corn over in his hand. “When the hell did any of us ever buy frozen corn?”

Happy shrugged. “Why do you have it?”

“Cold compress,” he said, draping the bag across the back of his neck. “Pretty sure my neck is sprained.” He shifted his eyes to hers. “ _That,_ he did. Not you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the image of Toby tied to the chair, head held immobile to ensure the acid did the most damage possible. “Doc, I practically begged you to get checked out last night.”

“Didn’t hurt last night, Hap, and anyway, it’s a sprain. It’s gonna suck for a week or two. That’s all.”

“I wanted you to get checked out.”

“I wanted to marry you,” he bit back. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

Happy tightened her hands around her mug.

Toby bowed his head and laid an open hand in the middle of the table. “I swear I’m going to try to stop that.”

Happy laid her fingers over his and he closed his hand around them.

“You get to be pissed,” she said. “You get to be pissed over this.”

He tentatively ran his thumb along her knuckles. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Happy sat up straight, took a deep breath, and stared at their joined hands.

“My mom was Canadian.”

Toby knit his brows together. “Yeah. You’d mentioned it.”

“She was from a town outside of Vancouver; she had her green card, because she was married to my dad, and she was in the process of becoming a naturalized U.S. citizen when she died.”

“I don’t understand, Happy.”

Happy took a shallow breath. “A few months after I joined Scorpion…before you and Sly came aboard, I had some trouble with INS. They…said I was undocumented.”

He squinted. “Happy, you were born here. I mean, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t have a notarized copy of my birth certificate; I’d moved so many times, I’d lost it somewhere, and no copy could be found with the register of deeds in Ventura County. There was no electronic record of my birth anywhere. I had a drivers license, I had…occasionally paid income tax, I had a Social Security number. The contention was that all these documents were obtained with a fraudulent birth certificate.”

“That’s…just bizarre.”

“That’s what I said. Loudly, at a couple dozen bureaucratic offices over the next few months.”

“How does something like that —”

“I don’t have to tell you how dependent our lives are on electronic records. Walter’s always spouting off when he’s pissed about how he could erase someone in an hour. In the years since, I have learned that issues like this are…exceptionally rare, but they can happen. And when it does, it costs the unlucky winners tens of thousands in legal fees and months, if not years, to sort out.” She scrubbed her face with her free hand. “Look, Toby, you have to understand, this was eight years ago. I was…I was younger, I had only ever been on my own, you know I don’t really do the whole formal authority thing well, I didn’t have money for a lawyer, I mean, you remember what it was like before Homeland came along. I finally got so pissed off after bumping into walls with the stupid INS agents for a couple months that I just…”

Toby dropped his head into his free hand. “Happy, dammit.”

“Yeah.”

“You _ignored_ the problem.”

“After no one would listen to me. Figured, ‘what’s the point?’.”

Toby rubbed at his eyes. “How’d that work out for you?”

“About how you’d expect. When…things started to get real, I redoubled my efforts. I tried to recover my records from the hospital where I was born, from any school system I attended, I tried to access my foster care records, in the hopes I could pull my father’s birth certificate, I even did what I could in the time I had to find my father. I tried to track down this one social worker, one who really seemed to care, in the hopes that maybe she’d kept copies of my file. I spent what little savings I had on a consultation with some lawyer with an ad on a bus stop bench. I hit dead ends every time, either the records were so old they’d been destroyed, or there was no electronic record to speak of.” Happy stared into space, and shook her head slowly. “It didn’t add up, but that didn’t change the reality of the situation. By the time I’d exhausted all my options I was days from being forced to move ‘back’ to Canada. Where I had never been, and where I knew literally no one. And where, by the way, I _still_ wouldn’t have a birth certificate, because, of course, I wasn’t born there.”

Toby squeezed her hand. “So you took the only other option available.”

She nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “Someone offered, offered to help substantiate the…relationship with INS, to jump through the hoops so I could get a green card. It was…really the only option I could see at the time.”

Toby nodded, his own eyes on the table. “And you’re still…”

“The issue with the records was resolved in about 18 months, but he wouldn’t…I approached him several times about an annulment, a divorce, and he was never willing. Finally, I decided, what did it matter? It was just a damn piece of paper. I never really saw myself…wanting to…” she swiped roughly at her cheeks.

“I’m…missing pieces of the puzzle, here,” Toby said. “Your records go poof, INS finds out, and 18 months later, the situation, what, just resolves itself? It smacks of a targeted hack.”

“It didn’t feel that way when it was happening, not at first…but eventually I became convinced that’s what it was.”

“Who had motive to do that to you?”

Happy breathed deeply and exhaled, “Oh, Doc. That’s where this whole thing _really_ gets…”

The door to the garage swung open then, and Cabe walked in, two coffees in hand. “Hey, you’re actually upright, kid, that’s more than I expected.”

“Hey, Cabe,” Toby sighed.

“But you sound positively awful,” Cabe said, then froze when he rounded the corner and caught sight of Happy. He dropped his eyes to their joined hands. He set the coffee on the table and cleared his throat. “You know what I did? I forgot something down at Kovelsky’s.” He pointed to the door. “I’m gonna go get it.”

“Thanks, Cabe,” Toby’s eyes never left Happy’s face.

“Listen, we caught a case, so the others are inbound. Not sure how long, um, you’re gonna have the place to yourself.”

Toby looked up. “OK. Maybe you can find that thing you forgot in about 20 minutes, then.”

Cabe nodded, gently clapping Happy on the shoulder as he walked past. “Good morning, kid.”

“Morning, Cabe,” she rasped.

“Damn,” Happy muttered, after the door closed behind Cabe.

Toby squeezed her hand. “Maybe it’s best to take a break from it. Give us both a chance to process, give you a chance to — I know this kind of thing is very draining for you.”

“I actually don’t think I’ve ever done this kind of thing before,” Happy whispered, and couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped. “You understand that it was never an actual relationship, right? It was a means to an end. Nothing more.”

“Happy, I was engaged to someone else a few years ago, and I cried on your shoulder when she left me. I swear to you, even if it had been a real relationship, it's OK. You're allowed to have a past. But I hear you,” Toby said. “Thank you for sharing that. I’ll have more questions about that later.”

Happy sighed heavily. “I figured. Toby, I know I’m in no position to ask…for anything from you. When I left here last night, I had decided. I’d done what I’d done, and you knew, and I was going to accept the consequences of that. I was finally going to own up to the whole thing. But I came back because…whether or not I deserve it, I don’t want to lose you, Doc. And I need to know, is that…is that possibility even on the table? Even remotely, for you?”

“Happy,” he exhaled, and scrubbed his face furiously with his hand. “I’m not mad at you for any of what you’ve told me. I’m upset for you. I hate that you went through all that. I am not angry at you for things you did before you met me, I mean I am the _last_ person on Earth to criticize anyone for having a past. And I want to understand this story that you’re telling me, to understand what happened, how it affected you, and how it contributed to us ending up here.” He took her other hand in his. “But Hap, I’m a little concerned that you might be missing the point. It’s not what you did eight years ago. It’s what you did last night. You let me walk into a propeller blade. Because you didn’t want to talk about this thing that’s no longer affecting just you. Now, it’s affecting us. And you kept it from me. _That’s_ the point. You let me walk into a propeller. _That’s_ why I’m pissed. Do…you get that?”

“Toby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way. I didn’t know you were going to —”

“What you mean, you didn’t know? I told you! Did you think I was kidding? I have been so careful about telling you every step of the way, where I was, what I was thinking of next, to give you an opportunity to pump the brakes. I told you weeks ago I was headed in this direction, and you said nothing. I’m not thrilled that you never shared this with me in all these years, just as a friend, but the night we got back from Vietnam, and I told you I was thinking of proposing, _that_ was your cue to come clean.”

“I was afraid you’d leave,” she whispered. “And I didn’t want that.”

“You’re right,” he quipped. “ _This_ was a much better plan. Happy, since we’ve started dating, actually, since long before that, I have done everything that you’ve asked of me, and far more. Because I love you, and because you deserve it. You deserve someone who will prioritize the things that you need, who will not, to use your turn of phrase, pull the rug out from under you. Here’s the thing, though, and there’s really no getting around this. I have also had more than my fair share of rugs pulled out from under me. And I deserve the same thing I swore to give you. I never questioned, for a second, that you would give me that. Until the moment I asked you to marry me. And I just…don’t know what to do with that. I can trust you to save my life, but not to think about how something like this might affect me. Affect us.”

Happy’s tears finally spilled down her cheeks in earnest. “I screwed up,” she said. “But I want to fix it. Tell me what I can do to fix it, Doc. I will do whatever it takes.”

“I hear you, Hap,” he squeezed her hands. “And I appreciate it. But I’m not there yet. I’m glad you feel that way, but I don’t know what to tell you to do. I don’t know that there’s anything you _can_ do.”

Happy sniffled. “So…where are we?”

“We’re gonna talk more later,” Toby said, and hoped it sounded reassuring. “Happy, I love you. Don’t forget that. But beyond that, I don’t know what else is on the table.”

* * *

_Monday: Two Days Later_

“And what about now?” Dr. Bissell asked. “Do you have a clearer picture of what options might be on the table with Happy?”

Toby shook his head. “I love her,” he said. “And she’ll risk her own life to save mine, but…in the last few days I’ve begun to question whether she’s capable of emotional reciprocity. Happy is hard-wired to look out for Happy. She _had_ to be, God knows no one else was looking out for her.”

“Until you,” Dr. Bissell said. “You started looking out for her, and you thought she’d look out for you.”

“How do I go the rest of our lives wondering if I know what I need to know? All these degrees, all my profiling, I never once saw any indication that she was hiding something like this. I knew she had some romantic emotional baggage, who doesn’t? But this, I never saw coming.”

“It sounds like you’re saying you can’t trust her,” Dr. Bissell said. “And that if you can’t trust her, you’re not sure you can be together. Even though you love her.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds pretty serious."

“Yes, it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I almost didn't write this story because I couldn't figure out a clean "who is she married to/why/how did that go down" story arc. I really will be interested to see what the canon backstory is next season. I thought long and hard about this, what would open up the most plot possibilities, but if you don't dig this option, know that at its heart this story is really about their journey to reconciliation, not about why they fell apart. So hopefully there's still something for everybody.
> 
> Also, there are a lot of inconsistencies in the backstory about how long they've been at this, and when major events happened. In researching this I found contradictions IN THE SAME EPISODE. So I tried to go with the safest guesstimate on dates/passage of time. 
> 
> I have been so grateful for all the kind feedback so far. Makes it so worth it, so thank you!


	4. Break Me Gently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang returns to the garage and begins prep work for a case, but the revelations of the day before have an effect on each member of the cyclone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay, but in exchange you get an extra-long chapter! Couldn't find a great place to cut it.
> 
> I've had a couple people mention that they never got a notification that my last chapter was up, and AO3 acted a little strange when I posted the last chapter, so you might want to double-check that you've read chapter 3 before diving into this bad boy.

**Chapter 4: Break Me Gently**

**break my fall in vain. pain won’t go, rest in peace. and i look, and i see, you could be breaking souls again. break me gently. — doves, ‘break me gently’**

* * *

 

_Saturday Morning: Two Days Earlier_

“Is this seat saved?”

Toby opened his eyes to see Ralph standing tentatively by the arm of the couch, holding his iPad.

“It’s saved for you, Ralphie-Boy,” Toby mumbled and patted the cushion beside him. “When did you guys get in?” He cast his eyes across the garage to where Sylvester was setting his things down and the two exchanged a nod.

“Sylvester woke me up early because he said we had a case,” Ralph said, and Toby couldn’t help but smile at his use of ‘we.’ 

“Did you guys have fun?” Ralph nodded. “Cabe brought bagels.”

“OK,” Ralph said, then held up the iPad. “Wanna watch cartoons until you guys have to start working?”

“It’s Saturday morning,” Toby said. “What else do you do on a Saturday morning?”

“Why is there a bag of frozen corn on your neck?” Ralph asked as he cued up an old _Wile E. Coyote & the Roadrunner_ cartoon and slumped against Toby. 

“My neck was hungry,” Toby said, then made a face at Ralph’s quizzical look, which earned him a grin. “So you decided you like my old-fashioned cartoons?” 

“It’s pretty funny,” Ralph said. “For vintage animation. But what is this thing?” he pointed to the screen. “It’s in almost every episode.”

“That’s an anvil. Blacksmiths used to use them,” Toby said. “It sorta gets lost in translation these days. The point is, it’s a big, hard, heavy object and when you see it, you know that no matter what he does, Coyote is going to get smacked in the noggin with it.” He breathed out. “I know exactly how he feels.”

“Uncle Toby?”

“Ralphie-Boy?”

“I’m really glad you’re OK,” Ralph never took his eyes from the screen. “Like…like, _really_ glad.”

Toby was dumbstruck momentarily, unsure how much Ralph knew, then leaned forward, pressing a kiss into the boy’s hair before dropping a hand on Ralph’s head. “Thanks, kid,” he said. “I love you, too.”

* * *

“Hey,” Sly approached Happy where she was working at the conference table. “You’re back.”

“I didn’t run away from home, Sly,” she muttered.

Sylvester took a steadying breath. “What are you working on?”

“Walter, Paige and Tim won’t be back for a another few hours, so we’re going to teleconference them in, but we need secure lines,” Happy said. “Apparently this case is pretty sensitive.”

“Wait, where’s Walter?”

Happy looked up at him for the first time, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Toby said he chased Paige to Tahoe to tell her he loves her.”

Sylvester’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding,” he breathed, looking over at Toby and Ralph on the couch. “Wait, so does that mean you and Toby are…on speaking terms?”

“We talked, a little,” Happy said. “We’re not done, but this case happened. Um, come here a second?”

She shooed him halfway up the ramp to the loft in search of privacy. “He’s really pissed, Sly.”

“You. Don’t. Say,” Sly deadpanned. “How’s he feeling? From the kidnapping, I mean?”

Happy ran a hand through her hair. “He’s not really talking about it much. He’s more injured than he let on yesterday. I mean, bumps and bruises, but he should have gotten checked out.”

“He was insistent, and he’s the doctor,” Sylvester said. “We always kinda follow his lead on that stuff. Maybe none of it has really sunk in yet.”

“Well, I think _my_ news has sunk in. I mean, he’s really, really pissed, Sly. I’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s snappish, he’s hostile, and I know a little about hostility —”

“Stop.”

“— and then the next second he’s on the verge of tears, and he’s…talking about how I saved his life and how he loves me —”

“Stop.”

“— and then his mood shifts again, and he’s distant and he’s says he’s not sure —”

“You have to stop,” Sly put his hands up, and finally, Happy fell silent, shaking her head at him in confusion. “I love you, Happy,” he said evenly. “I’m serious. You are the sister that I never had, one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And…we’re gonna be OK eventually, but not today. Today, you’re just…” he trailed off, pulling a frazzled hand across his brow. “You wanna slug me for this? Fine. But today, you’re just the bitch who broke my brother’s heart.” Happy blinked like she’d been slapped. “And I’m sorry to put it that way, but you need to acknowledge what really happened here yesterday. You…shattered him, Happy. Between that and what happened in that warehouse, I honestly don’t understand how he’s even functioning! So I cannot be your go-t0 friend on this one. I can’t be your sounding board. You want to work things out with him, great. I want what’s best for you both, but I’m sorry, Happy, I’ve got Toby’s back on this one. And…I think, for right now at least, that means that I can’t have yours.”

“Doesn’t it matter,” Happy croaked before clearing her throat, “that I had my reasons? I don’t have the energy or inclination to explain myself to you right now, but doesn’t it matter that I had reasons for doing what I did?”

“For not telling Toby about this before he ran headlong into a wall on the worst day of his life?”

Happy blinked. “I meant…that there was a reason I got married.”

“You were about to be deported,” Sylvester sighed, and Happy’s jaw dropped. “After I got Ralph to bed last night, I accessed your marriage license.” Happy brought a nervous hand to her stomach to steady herself. “Obviously, that did _nothing_ but raise more questions, so I started hacking your records from that time period.”

“And you guys wonder why I never tell you anything.”

“You should have _told him_.”

“ _How_ could I tell him that?” she raised her voice, then glanced down the ramp to see if they’d attracted attention. “Look at your reaction!” she whispered harshly. “How was I supposed to tell Toby?”

After a moment, Sly nodded. “I get that. But how did _this_ approach work out for you?”

Happy let out a shaky breath. “That’s exactly what he said. No wonder you’re, uh, Team Toby.”

Sylvester shrugged, and offered her an apologetic little grin. “Happy…you know you were targeted, right? The disappearing birth records.”

“I didn’t at first, but it kinda…became obvious.”

Sylvester nodded. “I took a look at some of the programming language behind the code at the register of deeds’ servers last night. There were bits and pieces of old hacker script that have… _his_ signature.”

Happy nodded slowly as she stared at the wall. “Well, I mean, who else’s would it be?”

“Yeah. It was a self-terminating script that removed the file from every electronic location for about 18 months and then restored it. It’s almost like he _wanted_ you to know, eventually, that he’d done it.”

“You have to understand, I’d just met him. I didn’t know yet how he was. And even if I had, my back was against a wall.” A dark look crossed her face. “Sly, my records, are they…are they safe? I mean, at this point, I have copies upon copies in multiple locations, but…are they safe?”

“They are now,” Sylvester said. “I cleaned up his leftover pieces of code, and put a few scripts of my own in there. If anybody accesses your birth record from Ventura County again, I’ll be notified, and we can determine whether or not it’s a hack. Then, we’ll be able to go on the offensive early.”

“Thank you,” she breathed. “That’s one thing off my mind. I wish I’d known you back then.”

“I wish you’d asked me to look into it for you years ago. You know me now,” Sly said. “See? I’m a little bit Team Happy, too.”

Happy raised an eyebrow. “You ever call me a bitch again and I’ll make you _my_ bitch.”

Sylvester pushed his glasses up his nose. “Like you don’t already.”

“That’s true.”

“Hey,” Toby appeared at the bottom of the ramp, serious eyes belying his light tone. “You girls are gonna have to chat about how dreamy I am some other time. Cooper’s here.” 

He walked away and Happy began to descend the ramp, but Sly caught her elbow. “Does he know?”

“He knows why I got married. He doesn’t know to whom yet.”

“You’ve got to tell him, Happy.”

“I was trying; we got interrupted.”

“It’s a matter of time until it occurs to him that he can pull the marriage certificate, just like it did me. If he was firing on all cylinders he would have realized already. He _shouldn’t_ find out about this from a computer. After everything he’s been through…he needs to hear it from you, Happy.”

Happy crossed her arms over her chest, the muscles in her jaw tensing as she clenched her teeth.  “The situation is…very iffy, Sly,” she whispered, and Sylvester was shocked to see tears in her eyes when she looked up. “I think when he finds out…I think I might lose him. I might have lost him anyway.”

“Toby doesn’t leave people,” Sylvester said, softly, stunned. “He’ll understand, he just might need some time. Happy, none of this was your fault. He’ll understand, once he knows everything.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Happy said. “You said it yourself. I should have told him. That’s why it’s _all_ my fault. Everything that’s happened to him. All of it.”

* * *

_Monday: Two Days Later_

“I’ve been read in on the case,” Dr. Bissell said. At Toby’s raised eyebrow, she said, “It’s difficult to talk with federal agents about their on-the-job stress if they can’t talk about the job. So I’ve got codeword clearance. You can talk openly about the case.”

Toby lowered his eyes to the coffee table, mentally reviewing the briefing. “Cooper told us a high-ranking employee from a big pharma company with headquarters here in LA had approached Homeland as a whistleblower with claims that one, or maybe more, of the top executives had adopted a radical personal agenda, and had begun to use the company’s research facilities to manufacture a biological weapon.”

* * *

_Saturday: Two Days Earlier_

“How could something like that be kept quiet?” Sly asked.

“The whistleblower thinks that at least one of the leading microbiologists is either on the executive’s private payroll or sympathetic to the cause,” Cooper said.

“Which is what, exactly?” Cabe said.

“Doesn’t matter right now,” Toby said. “Madman decides to wage biological warfare for personal beliefs, it matters less _why_ hundreds of thousands are gonna die and more _that_ they are.”

“So you want us to confirm whether and which diseases they have in storage,” Walter’s voice came over the speaker.

“Not exactly,” Cooper said, opening a folder and sliding it to Toby. “We know which microbes they have on site.”

“How?” Happy asked as Toby bent over the file.

“Because the government gave ‘em to the company,” Toby drawled. “They’re one of our biggest biological research contractors. They’ve got any number of nasty bugs, at _our_ insistence.” He dropped a finger to the file. “Tularemia, Y. pestis, which is the plague, SARS, inhalation anthrax…” he trailed off and looked up at Cooper with wide eyes. “Smallpox.”

“Now you see the urgency.”

Toby looked back down at the file. “Well, any of these could be used in bioterrorism, but you’d weaponize each differently.”

“Alright, that’s our edge,” Walter said. “We infiltrate the facility, access the executive’s files, see if anything we find there can help us determine which disease they’re planning on using.”

“The problem is that any paranoid lunatic worth his salt is going to know you’ve hacked him almost immediately,” Sly said. “He’ll have left security measures in the code.” 

“Which means that while you’re there, you’ll need to remove the company’s supply of whatever disease you determine is the focus of the research,” Cooper said. “In the event that it’s already been weaponized.”

“Hang on,” Toby said. “You want us to _steal_ big ol’ batch of plague?”

“It’s not impossible,” Happy said. “How much of this stuff would there be?”

“Vials,” Toby said. “A handful, maximum. You don’t need much of this stuff to wipe out a continent.”

“I could design a canister that would hold the containers securely and hermetically seal,” Happy said. “I could even make it bullet-resistant. Nothing short of an explosion would breach it.”

“Can we be sure that won’t happen?” came Paige’s voice. “A place like this has got to have security armed to the teeth.”

“They will be, but it’s not impossible,” Tim’s voice answered. “We go in at night, when the fewest people are on, especially on a weekend, and we don’t breach the lab and all its security protocols until Walter knows what we’re looking for. It’s doable.”

“OK, everybody get to work on a strategy, then tech,” Walter said. “I’ll be there in less than two hours. Let’s get this done.”

“Our ETA is about two hours as well,” Tim said, then the calls terminated.

* * *

 

Two hours later, Toby was reviewing laboratory handling procedures for all the diseases on the list when Cabe approached his desk. “How ya doin’, kid?”

“Good,” Toby said, not looking up from his books. “I mean, I know this stuff, but I just want it fresh in my mind before I’ve got a vial of anthrax burning a hole in my hand.” He looked up, only to find Cabe staring back at him with skepticism. “Oh. Fine, Cabe. A little tired. A little sore. Completely hollow inside, no big deal.”

“Kid, this thing with Happy is gonna work itself out, it’s just gonna take a little time,” Cabe said. “Right now, you need to be focused on recovering from this close call yesterday, so you and Happy can come at this thing when you’re at your best.”

“Well, thanks to you guys, there’s not much to recover from. I just need to catch up on my sleep, a couple days to work the kinks out,” he pulled gently at his neck, “then I'm all good."

“Kid, sometimes this stuff takes a while to catch up with you. Go easy, is all I’m asking.”

Toby turned his palms out. “I am going easy, Dr. Gallo.” 

“Sorry I, uh, interrupted this morning.”

Toby waved his hand. “How could you have known?”

“Doc, you have every right to be mad as hell, but she’s sick inside about this thing.” 

Toby looked across the garage to where Happy was working on a canister to transport their haul from the lab. “Why don’t you let me do the shrinkin’ around here?”

Cabe held his hands up. “You’re the doc, Doc.”

The door opened and Walter entered at a quick pace, Paige and Tim only steps behind him. Toby raised his eyebrows in silent question, and Walter gave single shake of his head. Toby pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Five minutes, then I want a briefing on where we are,” Walter said, heading up the steps.

Paige set her things down, cast a glance back at Happy and stepped over to Toby’s desk.

“I have the uncontrollable urge to sing the theme from ‘Three’s Company’ to you,” Toby said, coming around to lean against the desk. 

“Not funny,” Paige said. “Listen, I’m gonna give you a giant hug, and I could give a damn whether you want one or not.”

Toby rolled his eyes in mock disgust before opening his arms. Paige wrapped her arms around him and propped her chin on his shoulder. “She came back. That’s something.”

Toby raised his eyebrows, unsure how to answer, but sure he didn’t want to have the conversation. “Thanks for not letting the SEAL kill Walter.”

“Oh, hell no, I’m reserving that right for myself,” Paige said, then gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Hug over.” 

“God, you’re such a mom,” Toby said as he pretended to shake her off. 

“Speaking of which, have you seen my kid?”

Toby waved to a far corner of the garage. “He’s been coding for hours.”

Walter looked down the steps. “Toby.”

* * *

 

“It was an unmitigated disaster,” Walter said as he shrugged into a clean shirt.

“Oh believe me, all the evidence supports that claim,” Toby said as he stretched out on Walter’s sofa and covered his face with his hat. “You’re not imagining it,” came his muffled analysis.

“Well, clearly she’s moved on. She has feelings for Tim now.”

An unceremonious snort emanated from beneath the hat.

Walter turned around. “No?”

“It wasn’t what you said, it was your approach,” Toby said. “Tell me if this sounds familiar.” He moved the hat and spoke in a ridiculous falsetto with Paige’s cadence. “That was inappropriate, Walter.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What about Tim, did you think how this would make either of us feel?”

“Correct. Poor Tim.”

“It’s the wrong time. It’s the wrong place. You cannot give voice to every feeling you have every moment that you have it.”

Walter frowned. “It’s like I’m reliving it right now.”

“She’s not wrong. Let her cool off.”

“If you knew this was going to happen, why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

“I’ve kinda got my own raging dumpster fire going on over here, Pal, but you didn’t need to be stopped. Twice, in all the years I’ve known you, have I seen you that emotionally lucid — when you were hanging off the edge of that cliff last year, and last night. I wouldn’t have stopped you for anything. Now that you’ve said it, it can’t be unsaid.”

“That’s kind of why I’m perturbed, Toby.”

“Wal, trust me. She’s put off right now because you upset the fragile status quo that kept the two of you feeling safe, but just let it percolate for a little bit. Let her catch up to you.”

“I am not cut out for feelings.”

“Too bad, Pinocchio.”

Walter picked something up off his work table and approached Toby. “We found this by my car when we went looking for you yesterday.”

“My phone. I just assumed he’d dumped it.”

“Looks like you dropped it,” Walter said. “The, um, display was cracked, I switched it out for you. Seems to be good as new. Listen, Toby…you know how much we could use your expertise on the case, but the last thing I want to do is —”

“I’m fine, Walter,” Toby looked at him pointedly.

“I’m saying, you could run the tech from here, or talk me through it from the van.”

“You need to do the hacking, and I’m the one trained in how to handle these bugs,” Toby said. “Walter, I’m not going to stop living my life because of anything that happened yesterday. A single case of smallpox in this country is a national emergency, and you think the place for me is in the van talking you through what I already know how to do?”

“I just don’t want to ask you to do anything before you’re ready, before you’re…recovered,” Walter said. “When I was recovering from that car accident last summer, I learned the hard way what happens when you push yourself too far too fast. We all did. I nearly compromised the case, which would have had disastrous results.” 

“Walter, you nearly died in that accident last summer. I had a run-in with a lunatic with an attitude and a spat with my girlfriend…who _also_ has an attitude. Not the same thing.”

“I just wanted to offer it,” Walter said. “If you’re comfortable, then so am I.”

“I am,” Toby nodded, then waggled the phone at him. "Good as new."

“And you and Happy?”

“I don’t know, it’s a work in progress. We’re going to work together like always, Walter.”

Walter gave him a long look. “Okay. Let’s check on the others.” 

“Listen,” Toby said as he hauled himself off the couch and followed Walter down the stairs. “I want you to know that was a fairly good approximation of a human being, just then.”

“Bite me, Toby.”

“That’s not half-bad, either, 197.”

* * *

_Monday: Two Days Later_

“We spent the day in prep,” Toby said. “We planned to breach the facility late that night.”

“What was the plan?” Dr. Bissell asked.

“Security was expected to be heavy, and we’re not talking rent-a-cops, so we decided we’d split into two teams, each with a Homeland agent — we’d breach the interior together, then Walter and Tim would attempt to access the files on what type of weapon was under development while Cabe and I went to the lab. Happy determined the best place to get control of the building’s electronics was from an access point on the roof, while Paige and Sly QB’ed from the van.”

“So, you and Happy decided you could work together, then, despite your personal differences,” Bissell said.

“That’s absolutely critical,” Toby said seriously. “If we’ve learned anything in our two years with Homeland, it’s that when these things start happening, interpersonal tension of any stripe, you have to be able to hit pause on the personal dynamic and focus on the work. It’s really to the entire team’s detriment if you allow yourself to get distracted.”

Bissell nodded. “Then why did you allow it to happen to you?”

Toby heaved a sigh. “Admittedly, that…was not my finest moment.”

* * *

_Saturday Afternoon: Two Days Earlier_

“The size looks good, Happy. This should be plenty big enough.” Toby examined the canister Happy had designed for transporting the disease samples from the lab. It was little bigger than a thermos. “We might need to do something to secure the vials in place, though, in case it gets dropped.”

“Without knowing the exact shape of the containers we’ll be dealing with, it was impossible to create custom storage,” Happy said. “So here’s what you do.” She clicked the canister closed and pressed a button on the side. A series of green lights began to illuminate as the seals on the machine engaged. “Once the seal is complete,” Happy turned the canister and showed Toby a button on the top, “this opens a valve will release a polyurethane liquid foam that will fill the void in the container and solidify in about 20 seconds. Soft enough that Homeland’s lab geeks can easily cut in without risking breaking the vials, but strong enough inside the canister that you could dropkick it.”

“I’ve always wanted to dropkick something; at last I have my chance,” Toby said, taking the canister from her and familiarizing himself with the controls. “This is amazing, Happy, especially in this time frame.”

Happy felt herself smile at the compliment, and God, it felt good to smile for any reason. “Thanks. Um, how do you feel about the transport?”

“Good,” he said. “The risk of containment breach is low, considering I’m not going to have to change containers. Gotta admit I wasn’t looking forward to the idea of holding a micropipette full of tularemia suspension.”

“Just don’t drop the vials, Butterfingers.”

“Way to jinx it, Hap.”

“Eh, I think we’ve already had more than our share of bad luck the past couple of days.”

Toby cast his eyes over his shoulder, where the team was continuing to work away. “Hey, speaking of which,” he lowered his voice, “do you have a minute?”

Happy did her best not to let her dread show as she nodded.

* * *

“This is going to sound…not the way I want it to,” Toby said and he leaned against her truck in the alley. “But who is he?”

Happy’s heart thrummed against the inside of her ribcage. “What?”

“I know, it was never a relationship,” Toby turned his palms out. “But over the course of the afternoon I have…found myself a little preoccupied with wondering who he is. Was.”

“Doc,” Happy ground the heels of her hands into her gritty eyes. “I think maybe it’s best if we focus on this case before we —”

“I agree, which is why I’m asking,” Toby said. “It’s kind of…bugging me. I want it off my mind before we go in there tonight, so I figured the best way was to just…why am I picking up such strong fear markers from you?”

“I…um…this is kind of nervewracking.”

“Happy,” Toby closed the distance between them. “This part is not the sticking point for me. I’m just curious. I’m not gonna go find the guy, or whatever it is you’re thinking. I just…you said he offered to do this, and then he put the kibosh on any effort you made to end it once the whole mess was sorted out. I’m wondering how you knew this guy, what his motivation was, whether you’re still in touch with him. That’s all.”

Happy focused on the tire by Toby’s feet. “I’d known him a few months at the time. I lost touch with him a couple years later. I had no idea where he was for several years. I had no desire to know where he was. After the way everything happened, it was a relief.”

“But…you did hear from him at some point?”

She stared at him, unblinking. “I’ve heard from him a time or two.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

Happy dropped her eyes and nodded.

“How did you meet this guy, did you start off as friends?”

“ _No_ ,” Happy all but shouted, meeting his eyes again. “We were never friends. I just…didn’t know enough about him until it was too late.”

Toby cocked his head to the side and took a half step closer. “He was…a bad guy.”

Happy laughed sharply, and found tears balancing in her eyes. “Yes.”

Toby breathed out and closed his eyes. “Happy, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.

Happy swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “Are we done for now?” When Toby hesitated, she turned and nearly sprinted back into the garage.

Toby caught up to her as she came through the back door and pulled her by the elbow behind the shelves opposite the Airstream. “Happy, how the hell did you meet this guy? I have rarely seen you like this.”

“Doc,” Happy said, stifling her threatening tears. “Let’s talk about the rest of it after this case.”

Toby shook his head. “I don’t understand how I’ve known you seven years and I’ve never seen any indication of…I mean if this,” he motioned toward her, indicating her barely contained emotional reaction, “was the kind of person he was, why offer to help in the first place? What was his —”

“Just stop!” she whispered harshly, then peered through the shelves and across the garage to make sure the others weren’t listening. “You have to stop pushing. I have got to be focused for this case, and so do you. You can’t just steamroll over everything in your path, Toby, that’s exactly how things got sideways last night. All I wanted yesterday was to get you checked out, take you home and spend a couple of days curled up under the covers pretending the world didn’t exist, but you steamrolled over everything, over _me_ , and forced that proposal anyw—”

“ _Forced_ that proposal?” Toby said. “I love you and wanted to spend my life with you and unbeknownst to me, that request put your back against and wall and you were _finally_ forced to be honest with me. Now you’re _blaming me_ for that?”

Happy’s mouth drew up tightly. “This conversation is over,” she ground out, voice shaking, and stepped toward the bullpen where the others were working.

“If you say so, Happy,” Toby called, heedless of his sarcastic tone and the listening ears of the others. “I don’t even understand what the hell was the big deal about these details anyway, I was just trying wrap my head…”

Happy stopped mid-stride by Paige’s desk when Toby fell silent. She turned to see his hands on his hips, looking at the floor, eyes moving rapidly back and forth as his brain began to put the pieces together. “Oh my God,” he said, voice barely audible. “I know him.”

Happy crossed her hands over her chest. “Toby, please.”

He pointed at her. “Protective gesture. I know him. That’s why you don’t want to talk about this.” His breathing became heavier as he wracked his brain through all the years he’d known Happy. “Why would it matter so much to you if I know him?” he whispered to himself.

“Toby,” Paige said, interrupting the stunned silence of the others are they watched the conversation play out. “Maybe this conversation should be moved —”

“Eight years ago, that narrows the…” He looked up at Walter, who continued to stare back with confusion.

“Oh, my God,” Toby said brokenly, bringing his hands to his eyes. 

Happy brought her fist to her mouth. “Okay, let’s go back outside.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Toby said, pulling his hands away to reveal eyes that were bright with unshed tears. He advanced on her. “Tell me I’m missing something,” his voice began to tremble,” because I’m still kind of holding on to this… _tiny_ shred of hope…that you married _Walter_ ,” he pointed across the work area, “and we can all have a huge laugh now.”

Happy shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor. “I didn’t marry Walter,” she whispered miserably.

“Say it out loud. Say the name.” Happy’s shoulders slumped and she spun toward the front door. “You have run out of leeway to bail,” Toby called after her harshly. She turned back to him with tears in her eyes, the rest of the group slack-jawed, still glued to their spots at their workstations. “And you have run out of leeway for keeping secrets. You said you wanted to own up to this? Then—”

“It’s Collins,” she breathed, then squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. “Eight years ago,” her voice wobbled, “I…married...Mark Collins…to avoid deportation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, part of the reason for the delay was that I revised and revised this chapter, fretting over how it would be received. I'm nervous! I won't drone on about why I chose this direction, but I'm happy to answer questions if anyone asks. Remember, if you're not into this option, I'm not anticipating that it will be a huge part of the story...I wrote this fic to explore their journey going forward from the finale, but to do that, we had to address what the deal was. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the kind feedback and correspondence. I am enjoying getting to know all the sweet people in this fandom!


	5. Where Are We Gonna Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang steps in to try to mitigate the fallout of Happy's revelation, while Happy and Toby separately mull over their shared future -- if there is one. Then, the team's next case pushes Toby past his limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter this time, so hopefully you won't mind the wait. Also, I fractured some bones in my ankle and tore a ligament. Can I just tell you how much fun that's not? But apparently being stuck in a chair/couch/bed for five straight days makes these characters chatty as hell in my head. So, here you go. :)

**Chapter 5: Where Are We Gonna Go From Here?**

**all of your ways and all your thunder got me in a haze running for cover. where we gonna go from here? — matt kearney, 'where we gonna go from here'**

 

“Get out of my way!” Toby ground out through clenched teeth.

“No,” Sylvester stood firm, blocking Toby’s exit from the garage. 

Panic-fueled rage flashed across his face for a moment, but he quickly schooled it into a far more intimidating shrink’s glare. “I. Said. Move. Sly.”

“No, Toby,” Sly said, then the words came tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t think this is a good time…for you to leave. I don’t think you’re really thinking through the potential implications…of that action.”

“ _All_ I do is _think_!” Toby yelled, any semblance of control gone. 

Sylvester’s breathing ratcheted up with his tension. “That may be, but I don’t think you’re thinking clearly right now,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to head off alone. I don’t think anyone walking away is going to help the situation right now.”

Toby tried to step around him, but Sylvester blocked his path again. Toby grabbed one of his jacket lapels. “Sly, move or I will move you, dammit!”

“You can try,” Sylvester said evenly. 

“Son,” Cabe whispered, appearing behind Sylvester’s shoulder. “If you wanna go, you can go. Sly won’t stop you; nobody will. But before you do, you might want to think through whether that’s going to help or hurt things between you and Happy. I know you’re upset, kid, but try to see the whole board.”

At the mention of Happy’s name, Toby spun back toward the work area. Happy hadn’t moved an inch since she’d last spoken, regarding him carefully with bright eyes, looking for all the world like she was forcing herself to watch him go. Toby’s shoulders slumped with a loud exhale as he released his grip on Sly’s jacket. He took two steps back toward her. “I’m not…” he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her, or his composure. “I just need some air, that’s all,” he said, stepping past her. “Stay with her,” he called over his shoulder to no one in particular, then took the stairs to the roof two at a time.

Cabe cast a pointed look at Paige, and nodded toward Happy. Paige’s eyes went wide and she gave him a tiny shake of her head. Cabe rolled his eyes. “Kid,” he took a step toward Happy. “Why don’t you come take a walk with me?” Happy stared at him wordlessly. “Come on,” Cabe nodded toward the back of the garage. “The doc’ll cool down up on the roof, and we’ll hang out back here.”

Happy didn’t say anything, but turned in the direction he indicated and walked slowly, as if on autopilot.

“What the hell?” Paige breathed, turning back to the remaining members of the group. She looked at Walter. “Did you know?”

Walter shook his head. “I had no idea. I…this is almost hard to fathom.”

“I thought Happy was American,” Tim said.

“She has to be,” Walter said. “She has a Social Security number. I submitted her paperwork as a natural-born American citizen for background checks when we first started with Homeland and, obviously, that went through fine.”

“Those checks are thorough; they wouldn’t have missed something like nation of birth,” Tim said.

“Then why was she about to be deported?” Paige said.

“Okay,” Sylvester sighed, stepping away from the door for the first time. “I hate to gossip, but considering what just happened, maybe it’s best if I bring everyone up to speed.”

“You knew?” Walter said.

Sly shook his head. “Not until last night,” and Walter nodded, seeming to understand how Sly had gathered his information. “Here’s the CliffsNotes version…”

* * *

Toby bent over the ledge on the roof, shifting his weight onto his forearms, only to wince when his bruised left arm protested. He exhaled long, letting his eyelids drop closed against the headache that was pounding behind his eyes.

Behind him, the door to the roof opened. “ _Occupado_ ,” he called flatly without turning around. The door closed, but Toby knew that whoever it was hadn’t left. 

“Thinkin’ of jumping?” Sly asked as he approached and leaned against the ledge several feet away.

Toby stood on his tiptoes and looked over the edge. “Nowhere near high enough to put me out of my misery,” he deadpanned. He heard a small _splat_ and felt something cold land on the ledge against his hands. 

“Thought maybe you could use that.”

Toby flipped the object over, then laid it across the back of his neck. “I am developing a weird relationship with this bag of corn.”

Sylvester was silent, the two of them staring at the L.A. vista.

“I’m so sorry, Pal. I really am,” Toby said to the skyline, then sniffled. “I’m not crying, by the way, I’m…allergic to frozen corn.”

They met each other’s eyes and Sylvester offered him a polite smile. 

“Sly, how much do you know?”

“All of it, I think,” Sylvester said. “I nosed around last night for a while.”

“And do I know all of it now?”

Sly nodded. “I think so. Assuming you’ve connected the dots like you normally would have.”

“Oh, I’ve connected the dots,” Toby sighed. “He did this. All of it. The issues with her birth certificate, and for that matter how the hell would Happy even end up on INS’s radar anyway, birth records or no?” He shook his head. “She always made him uneasy because she didn’t intimidate like most people. He needed some measure of control, and…holy hell, he _actually_ hacked her records and damn near had her deported. Months after meeting her. Before either of us had even met any of them.”

Sylvester nodded. “If she left, fine, problem solved. If she didn’t, Collins could offer her an ‘out’ so she could stay in the country. Either way, he had the control he needed. Permanent upper hand.”

“Her vitriol for him starts to make more sense when you know that,” Toby said. “I mean, we all loathed him, but…she always had a particularly strong…”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Sylvester said.

Toby was silent for a moment, turning to lean his back against the ledge. “I don’t know if I can do this, Sly. I love her more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone,” he swiped roughly at his face with the back of his hand, unable to keep his tears at bay any longer. “And rationally, I know none of this is her fault. I’m heartbroken for her, for what she went through, for what that… _sick bastard_ … ” he trailed off, stepping away from the ledge, gripping his head in his hands. “But I told her _weeks_ ago about this, and she kept _silent_ ,” he said through clenched teeth, “until I was down on one damned knee, waiting for an answer. No matter how many times I tell myself that she didn’t intentionally…that she’s still learning how to allow herself to be…that she was scared and she didn’t know how to…” he shook his head, lifting his hands in a shrugging gesture. “It’s not enough. It all comes down to when her back was against the wall, she didn’t trust me, and she cared more about keeping her secret than about being honest with me, even if it set me up for a world of hurt.” He let his arms fall limply against his sides and chewed on his bottom lip. “I love her. But I’m not sure anymore if it’s a good idea for me to love her. I’m not sure if it’s smart…if it’s _safe_ for me love her.” He slid bonelessly down the ledge wall and slumped on the floor. “I can’t imagine my life without her, but, my God, Sly, I can’t imagine living like _this_ for the rest of my life either. Constantly wondering if she’s been honest with me.”

Sly joined him on the floor, silently sitting cross-legged, shoulder-to-shoulder with Toby as they stared across the roof. 

“I am committed to not rendering an opinion on what you should do in this whole situation,” Sly said, slowly. “But I _am_ gonna tell you when you’re full of it.”

“Full of it,” Toby echoed tonelessly, staring into space, tears still balancing in his eyes.

Sylvester turned his shoulders toward Toby and raised a finger. “I’ve got a pretty good shrink,” he said. “Harvard alum. _Infuriatingly_ good at calling people out when they’re full of it. You’d like him,” and he thought it a small victory when one corner of Toby’s mouth quirked almost imperceptibly. “And if he were here, treating you now, I think he’d say you were full of it. He’d say this all _just_ happened, and that this is your anxiety talking. Take it from somebody who knows that particular beast well, Pal, he’d be right.”

Toby remained silent, reaching a hand up to rub at his temple.

“Your anger, your pain, it’s legitimate. Justified. But my pal the shrink, I think he’d say that he has never seen either of you a fraction as happy as you’ve been the past few months. I think he’d say that of course it’s safe for you to love her, and of course it won’t always be like this. But even if it wasn’t, does it matter? You love her. You can’t turn that off. Now you just have to figure out what you do about it,” Sylvester pushed his glasses up his nose. “She was wrong, Toby, to keep this secret from you, but I don’t think it was a secret she kept out of malice. I think it was kept, first, out of shame, and then out of panic.”

“You’re not wrong,” Toby nodded. “So what happens the next time she’s ashamed, or panicked?”

Sylvester squinted up at the sun. “Yeah, that’s the part I don’t have an answer for. Lucky for Happy, she’s dating a brilliant psychiatrist with a heart that’s even bigger than his brain. I’m sure he’ll come up with something, if he’ll just give himself a little time.” Toby sighed deeply. 

“And until he does,” Sylvester continued, “maybe he should stop doing things like having big conversations during meeting prep,” Toby screwed his face into a ball and buried it against his palms, “and walking away from conversations with Happy. You know you can’t do that, Toby, she’s got a thing with abandonment.”

“I know,” Toby pulled his hands down his face. “Thanks for not letting me leave before.” He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You know what would be helpful, is if I could just stop digging this hole deeper for like, two seconds. Stop snapping at Happy, stop threatening to rough up my friends.” He rolled his head toward Sylvester and grinned.

“‘Sly, move or I will move you, _DAMMIT_ ,’” Sylvester mimicked, and they both dissolved into laughter. “Who are you, Rambo?”

* * *

Cabe set a ginger ale in front of Happy and sat down, staring intently at his own can. “I grew up on this stuff in Brooklyn. I’d never seen it out here, but Sylvester showed me where I could order it online. Now I get it by the case. Try it.”

Happy cracked the can open and took a sip, fiddling nervously with the tab.

“Kid, you gotta relax,” Cabe said. “You look like you're about the crawl out of your own skin.”

“I was never going to tell anyone about this,” she said, barely audible. “It wasn’t anyone’s business. It was my mistake, and once he left, it was just a piece of paper that didn’t mean anything. Why did anyone else need to know?”

“People are wired differently,” Cabe said. “I’m like you, I keep things close to the vest. Doesn’t have to do with anyone but me, right? But personalities like the doc…hell, I spend half my time trying to get him to shut up for five damn minutes. Guy like that doesn’t have secrets, he thinks and feels and…processes, as he and Paige would say, processes everything out loud. He may be a world-class shrink, but I think it’s hard for him to understand, in here,” he tapped his chest, “why we do things so differently. And he's not thinking like a shrink when it comes to you, Happy, he’s thinking like a man who loves you, and who didn’t see this coming.”

Happy opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to choke on the words, then took a long sip from her can.

“I…he _knew_ I was like this,” she said finally, voice growing stronger. “He always just reads me and figures out what I mean to say, half the time before _I_ even know. I usually don’t _have_ to say anything. I guess I…when things between us started getting serious, and for sure, when he mentioned proposing, I thought he’d pick up on this, too, that there was something I needed to take care of, that I wasn’t able to go there yet. Hell, I used to worry that he’d figure the whole thing out, details and all, from the way I held my water bottle or something, you know how he is.” She shook her head. “But he _didn’t_. As soon as he mentioned getting married, I got a lawyer. We’ve been working on our options. But…before I knew what was happening,” she squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists, the words coming out rapid-fire, “Collins took him, and he was hurting him, and I was going to lose him, and there were rings, and just-in-case goodbyes, and Collins loving every minute of it with his snide comments and his cruel jokes, and Toby got taken when he was out getting me that ring, and it’s all my fault because I didn’t tell him, and then when we got him back I couldn’t even talk to him because all he wanted to talk about was _that,_ and all of a sudden he was singing to me and looking at me the way he does, and it was happening and time was up and I had to tell him. And now…” she opened her eyes, staring blankly into the back of the garage. “I’ll lose him anyway. Sly says I won’t, but I think…I mean, how could _anyone_ get past something like this? I can’t marry him because I’m married to the man who tried to kill him yesterday.” She exhaled long. “I just…I really thought he’d see that I needed more time.”

“Or you could have told him,” Cabe said. “Kept him from getting too far ahead of himself, too far ahead of you.” 

“I thought you said you were like me. It was my private—”

“It stopped being just yours, Happy, when you became Happy and Toby. You two were talking about a future together; he needed to know then. Instead, you waited, and Murphy’s Law did its thing. It came out in the worst possible way, at the worst possible time.” Cabe leaned forward. “I know a little something about that, too. After everything we’d been though, I almost lost Walter, and by extension, all of you, when my private business came out. Fact is, it wasn’t just my business, it was Walter’s too. I was in denial about that. And it almost cost me…damn near everything.”

Happy stared at the can in her hands, tears pooling in her eyes. “What do I do?” 

Cabe shrugged. “I came clean. I apologized. And then I did whatever I could, whatever was necessary to fix things between us. I’m not saying, kid, that fixing it is a guarantee. But it sounds like that’s what you want. And if I know the doc…he’s a good guy. And he loves you. The whole situation just needs some time. And you,” he said, standing, “might have to give some thought to changing, a little. Not letting him do all the heavy lifting when it comes to the emotional side of things. Try telling him what you’re thinking every now and again.”

Happy nodded unsteadily, and took another sip of soda. She smiled at the can. “You know, this really is good.”

“What did I tell you?” Cabe spread his arms.

They looked up at Sly and Toby’s heavy steps as they descended from the roof. Cabe approached the bottom of the stairs, Happy trailing behind him. Toby turned his palms out as he skulked down the last few stairs. “Way ahead of you, Cabe. If you’ll find a not-so-private location for us, I will first apologize, then grovel to you and Walter so we can all get on with case prep and back to saving the world, hmm?”

Cabe nodded and headed for Walter’s desk. “The rest of this needs to be shelved until after the case,” he said over his shoulder, then pulled a glare and pointed at Happy and Toby. “The two of you need a little space from each other.”

Sylvester edged past Toby nervously. “That’s true,” he said. “You two need space like whoa.”

“No, no, you cannot pull that off,” Toby called after him. “You cannot pull off needing anything ‘like whoa.’” He looked back at Happy. “I guess our chaperones have grounded us from each other until after the case.” He held up his hands, “Can I say one thing? One sentence only?”

Happy pulled a face, but nodded.

Toby leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sorry, Hap, that one was all me.”

“Toby, I’m so—”

“Ah-ah,” he chided. “Shelved until after the case. Now I have to go apologize to Walter and you know how I hate that.” Happy nodded, and couldn’t help the smile that tugged her lips upward, and Toby smiled back. Maybe they were simply running out of anger for each other, Happy thought. That's got to be good, right? “So Cabe’s got you hooked on his ginger ale.”

She held the can up. “It’s actually really good.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” he drawled, backing away from her. “When are you gonna learn, all good things come from Brooklyn? Exhibit A.” He gestured to himself, then turned in Walter’s direction with a sigh. “Oh, God, here we go. Walter? A word?”

“God, I love you,” she whispered to the empty space he left in his wake. It was the first time she’d said those words aloud since she was a child, and she found that they didn’t feel as stupid as they always sounded in her head. 

* * *

“It was a deplorable lack of professionalism,” Toby said, as he huddled with Walter and Cabe in the interview room under the ramp. At their silence, he quirked a corner of his mouth, “And in this company, that’s really sayin’ somethin’.” 

“I swear, I am not in the mood for your unfunny jokes,” Walter glared. 

Toby held his hands up. “Walter, I think the personal and professional have been colliding at an unprecedented rate the past few days, for many of us.” He cleared his throat. “A discussion like that never should have been breached during meeting prep. I let myself become distracted, unfocused. It will never happen again.”

“Kid, you’re not even 24 hours out of this situation with Collins,” Cabe said. “And then you had this situation with Happy piled on. Maybe you should take a few days off. You and Happy both, for that matter, to work on things.”

“With what’s at stake in this case, you want me and Happy to go on some kind of couple’s retreat while you guys are breaching that lab tonight? Cabe, trust the psychiatrist here, the best thing after a disruption like this is a return to routine, or as much routine as we have, anyway,” Toby said.

“A disruption?” Cabe asked, incredulous. “That’s what you’re calling this?”

“Clinically, that’s exactly what this is,” Toby said placidly, clasping his hands in front of him. “You’re trying to come at this thing with feelings, Cabe, and more emotion is the very last thing this situation needs. It’s a clinical situation that has a clinical diagnosis and clinical best practices for treatment.”

Walter’s jaw clenched. “I am going to ask you one more time—”

“Good as new and good to go,” Toby interrupted. “Walter, Cabe, I swear. It will never happen again.”

* * *

_Monday: Two Days Later_

“A disruption,” Dr. Bissell said.

Toby knit his brows together. “I’m sensing trouble, but I’m not sure—”

“You, Dr. Curtis, are a world-renowned psychiatrist,” Bissell said. “Respected in the field, seen as edgy, pushing the envelope on behaviorism. Your academic research has been groundbreaking.”

“Stop, I’m blushing,” Toby drawled.

“And the most accurate psychological descriptor you could find for your being kidnapped, held hostage and nearly killed by a former colleague was ‘disruption’?”

“It was a perfectly valid descriptor,” Toby said, “for professionals like myself who don’t allow themselves to become mired down in the emotion of the whole situation.”

Dr. Bissell gestured at him with her pen. “I thought you were done with these cheap evasion tactics,” she said. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t emotion exactly what landed you in this room?”

Toby folded his hands over his belt. “What descriptor would you have found acceptable?”

“The appropriate clinical one — trauma.”

Toby’s eyes rolled skyward. “Oh, come on!”

“Why does it bother you to characterize a kidnapping, hostage situation and attempt at taking your life as psychologically traumatic?”

“I’m sure it would be,” Toby clipped. “For someone who wan’t board-certified in psychiatry with a degree from—”

“Harvard Medical School,” Dr. Bissell sighed in unison. She scrunched her nose up as if she smelled something foul. “I went to Harvard Med, and I would find an experience like that traumatic.”

Toby shook his head. “Nothing wrong with that. But nothing says _I_ have to feel that way. Whether or not Cabe Gallo is fine with it.”

“No, there’s nothing that says you _have_ to,” Dr. Bissell said. “But you do.”

Toby narrowed his eyes. “That’s a miss, Doc.”

“Really.”

Toby shrugged. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“So am I, Toby,” Dr. Bissell pulled her glasses from her face. “But people who aren’t traumatized don’t choose the most uncomfortable seat in the room when nursing a painful neck injury,” she gestured around the room. 

“For God’s sake, I just preferred the couch!”

“Right, because if you couldn’t bring yourself to sit in armchairs because you spent more than 10 hours tied to one with your life at stake, _that_ would be crazy. People who aren’t traumatized don’t hash out their relationship problems in the middle of work and in front of their co-workers. For that matter, people who aren’t traumatized don’t propose to their girlfriends while ignoring her repeated pleas to stop—”

“Hang on, she never told me not to propose,” Toby leaned forward, face painted with genuine concern. “I mean, in the warehouse, because she thought I was saying goodbye, but not once we were clear. Where did you get that?”

Bissell flipped back in her notes. “According to Sylvester, Happy said some variation of 'no' to your attempts to propose — _don’t, wait, stop, you will not do this_ — nine times Friday that he witnessed.” 

Toby furrowed his brow and he stared blankly at the space in front of him. “I don’t…um, I don’t know that I…I would need to talk to him about…”

“You don’t remember?”

“It’s not that I don’t remember, exactly, it’s just that…I’m realizing now,” he rolled his hand, “that in the moment I might have misread…” his arms fell limply to the cushions beside him. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Bissell said. “For the record, normal people might do that, misread, but not a world-class behaviorist. Unless there were other factors in play, like trauma. Perhaps most concerning of all, people who are not traumatized are not so numb and physically disconnected that they ignore physical injuries and push themselves to the point of physical collapse.”

* * *

_Saturday Night: Two Days Earlier_

“Remember, you need the seal to be complete before you deploy that foam,” Happy said, handing Toby the canister across the back of the van. “Otherwise, you run the risk that the foam will compromise the integrity of the seal, and _that_ would be—”

“Not good,” Toby grinned. “I will handle your precious new baby with care, I promise.”

“You just handle yourself with care,” Happy said, looping her bag over her shoulder before following Cabe out of the van.

“Hey,” he followed her out of the van and around the side, then caught himself once face-to-face with her, looking around at the others as they saw to their last second preparations. “You, um…you just make sure you don’t fall off that roof.”

“Please, Doc,” she rolled her eyes. “Make sure you don’t give yourself a deadly disease, you spiller.”

“You wound me, Hap,” he grinned. “Gotta go,” he said, trailing after Cabe, Walter and Tim. “I’ll be back as soon as I save the continent.”

“What are we, moral support?” Tim said.

“We, Pal. I meant ‘I’ in the ‘we’ sense.” He turned back and cast a quick wink at Happy, then slipped his com in and the four of them disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

_Monday: Two Days Later_

“How did it start?” Bissell asked.

“Honestly, I was fine,” Toby said. “Tired, but I had been since the thing.”

“Point of order,” Bissell said. “People who aren’t traumatized don’t refer to the trauma as ‘the thing.’”

Toby pressed his lips into a thin line. “Noted.”

“Were you experiencing headaches at this point?”

“I’d had a headache since I’d come to the previous morning tied to a chair in a warehouse I’d never seen,” Toby said impatiently. “No dizziness, no blurred vision. I was fine. I was as good as I’d been in days, as a matter of fact. It felt good to focus on something else for a while, something besides the hot mess between me and Happy, something besides ‘how are you holding up’ and ‘don’t you think you should take a few days off’.”

“But then?”

Toby sighed. “It was going smoothly. It was all going way too smoothly.”

Dr. Bissell cocked her head.

“If Scorpion has a barometer for Homeland cases, it’s this — if things seem to be going too smoothly, hold on to your hat, because things are about to go straight to hell.” He leaned forward. “Technically, I’m the only one who wears a hat, but the principle still applies.”

“What happened in the facility?”

* * *

_Saturday Night: Two Days Earlier_

“Happy, we own security video, good work,” Sylvester’s voice came over coms.

“We’re ready for entry,” Cabe said, as he, Walter, Toby and Tim approached a fire exit at the most isolated part of the facility’s lot.

“Hang on, Cabe,” Happy said. “I’ve got external alarms under my control, but I’m still working on the redundant internal systems to give you mobility inside the building. I don’t want you stuck inside the building waiting on me. Hold your position.”

“We’re looping security video of the back alley, you’re safe where you are,” Sylvester called.

“How long, Happy?” Walter asked.

“40 seconds, give or take, stand by.”

“Remember,” Walter turned to the other three, “the lab’s security protocols will remain in place until I’ve hacked the locks and other security systems from inside the network, so Toby, you and Cabe will have to hold position outside the lab.”

Cabe nodded. “That won’t be a problem as long as we have eyes.”

“Right with you guys,” Paige answered. “I’ll have your backs while Sly has Walter and Tim’s.”

“Remember,” Toby said to Walter, as Cabe and Tim reviewed their tactical contingency plans, “It doesn’t _have_ to be incredibly awkward. I’ve seen no markers that indicate he plans to kill you and leave your body in the building as a coverup.”

Walter fixed him with a glare.

“Atta boy, Walt, just be your friendly self. That’s the right strategy.”

“Do you have _any_ ability to focus on the task at hand?” Walter snapped.

Toby held the canister aloft. “You just get me in the lab, loverboy. I’ll take it from there.”

A soft buzz signaled Happy’s release of the lock. “We’re go,” she said. “Keep your heads down.”

“You’re all clear inside door one,” Sylvester called. “Good luck, guys.”

The door opened into a utilitarian corridor in the building’s basement, paces from a stairwell. “Lab’s in the sub-basement,” Tim pointed down. “Walter and I are headed for the penthouse.”

“Are you sure you can’t get on the network somewhere down here?” Cabe asked Walter. That’s a lot of security, and a lot of opportunities to get jammed 

“I can hack the doors from somewhere down here, but this guy’s private files aren’t going to be on the network,” Walter said. “No, if we wanna know which bug he’s weaponized, I need to get at his personal files.”

Cabe nodded. “See you at the rendezvous point.” 

After a round of nods, the group split and parted ways in the stairwell.

* * *

“Toby, Cabe, continue to hold your position,” Paige said.

“For how much longer?” Toby whispered. “I gotta tell you, I never wanted to spend this much time in a broom closet, so close to Cabe that I can see his pores.”

“It’s the safest location for you until Walter’s ready to hack the lab’s locks,” Sly said. “This private security contractor is no joke, they’re doing rounds on each floor every half hour. Just stay put.”

“Walter, I need you to get me in there with a little lead time, I’ve got to suit up to handle those samples,” Toby said.

“I just need another minute,” Walter’s voice chimed in over the sound of rapid keystrokes. “Paige, you’re sure the lab’s clear?”

“Empty,” she said. “That’s why we did this at midnight.”

“I’m ready to pop the outer locks, but don’t go further into the lab until Happy and I are ready to act in concert.”

“Copy that,” Toby and Cabe whispered.

They heard a soft click in the hallway. “Go,” Walter said.

* * *

“Walter, the doc’s in his gear, what’s your status?” Cabe called.

“I’ve got no files on his computer related to this,” Walter said over the sound of rustling papers. “He either went with hard copies or he’s got a second machine that’s not on the network, one we haven’t found yet.”

“I have an idea,” Tim said. “Cabe, go to video.”

Cabe pulled his tablet from his bag, and Tim’s face appeared in shadow moments later. “Where’s Toby?”

Cabe flipped the tablet around. “Doc,” Tim called, “I thought you might be able to help us narrow the search with some profiling. “

Toby pulled his mask from his face. “Uh, guys, I’ve kinda got my hands full with the whole diseases angle.”

“This is taking too long,” Walter said. “We’ve got to shave off some time.”

Toby sighed. “Give me a wide angle view of the room.” The camera panned to show Walter rifling the contents of the office. “Um…” Toby rubbed distractedly at his temple. “Let me get a tighter look at those family photos.” The camera angle tightened. “Walter, this guy’s in a gray area age-wise for preferring paper or digital, could go either way. I don’t see a lot of paper in the office, plus, it’s minimalist, and this would be a massive amount of information, so I’d lean toward digital, but you’re right, it would be stored somewhere out of sight.”

“Any thoughts on where?” Tim asked.

“Ugh, Tim, how the hell do I know?” 

“Just try to help them narrow the possibilities,” Paige’s voice come over the coms. “A near guess is better than what they’ve got now.”

Toby huffed. “He’d want to keep it close, so stay behind the desk. It feels protected there, but he’d stash it well out of the way, so there’s no chance housekeeping or an assistant could stumble…there are a lot of personal effects on the credenza, I’d start there; this is personal for him.”

“Here,” Walter called, proudly producing a hard drive from a false back in the credenza. “Stand by.”

“Toby, Cabe, security’s on its next round coming down the hall,” Paige said.

The two held their breath in the darkened room as footsteps stopped outside the lab’s main door and checked the handle, then moved on.

“I think this is definitely what we’re looking for,” Tim said. “Walter’s having such a hard time cracking the encryption that he’s muttering to himself.”

“We might wanna start thinking about how we hedge our bets,” Cabe said to Toby.

“Meaning?”

“If Walter can’t crack this drive, which bug is it most likely to be?”

“Are you crazy?” Toby whispered harshly. “You can’t do this kind of thing on guesswork! There’s too much chance I could be wrong. We need Walter to confirm which bug we’re after.”

“I’m sayin’, if we have to make a knee-jerk decision,” Cabe said.

“We can’t go knee-jerk on this,” Toby snapped. “Walter, you’ve got to get me empirical evidence, here.”

“Minutes away,” Walter mumbled.

“They may not have minutes. You guys are way over your time estimates already,” Sylvester stressed.

“Pipe down, Sly,” came Happy’s hushed voice. “Doc, I can pop the door to the containment room any time, but I don’t recommend doing it until Walter’s close.”

“I’m close,” Walter called. “Send him in, Happy.”

Toby donned his mask and pulled the hood of his clean suit over his head. The door buzzed softly and he stepped inside and activated the room’s negative pressure systems. “I’m in, Hap.”

I’m working on the vault’s biometric locks through the downlink Happy provided,” Sylvester said, typing furiously. “Walter, you stay focused on decrypting that drive.”

“Copy,” Walter called distractedly.

“Sly, don’t open that vault until I can bypass the collapsible circuit on the lab’s security systems,” Happy said. “We’re going to have to time this perfectly, or the alarms trip.”

“Acknowledged.”

Toby opened the canister, feeling clumsy in the suit’s thick gloves. “I’m in position,” he said, meeting Cabe’s eyes through the containment room’s glass, then turning to the vault’s door.”

“Walter’s in!” Tim said. “He’s searching the files now. Hey, Toby, what would you have guessed?”

“What?” Toby called, then shook his head in exasperation. “Smallpox, I guess.”

The keystrokes coming over his com stopped. “Good guess, Toby,” Walter said.

Cabe smiled at Toby through the glass. “You ready?”

Toby nodded. “Let’s do it.”

A few seconds of verbal coordination between Sly and Happy resulted in Toby staring at racks upon racks of vials on the inside of the vault. He swallowed and took a step forward, scanning the racks as fast as he could for the label he was looking for. “Here it is. Looks like…four vials. Confirm?”

“That’s what Homeland gave them,” Sylvester said. “The good news is, that means they probably haven’t weaponized it yet.”

“Yeah, they’re not gonna get the chance,” Toby said. “OK. Here we go.”

“Good luck, Toby,” Walter called. “We’re starting our descent.”

“Take your time, Doc,” Cabe called, voice smooth. “You’ve got all the time in the world, and nothing to worry about this second but the job in front of you.”

When Toby activated the seal on the canister, and watched the indicator lights illuminate, he had to suppress a whoop of joy. “Canister seal is complete, injecting foam,” he said.

“Remember, Doc, you just need about 40 seconds before it’s solid enough to carry,” Happy said.

“Got it,” he called. “I’m closing the vault door, but I’ll maintain negative pressure in the inner lab until the foam’s dry.” He sealed the vault and leaned against the counter, breathing heavily, willing away the pounding behind his eyes. _That_ had been nerve-wracking. He looked up at Cabe, who gave him a thumbs-up through the glass.

“20 seconds,” Paige called through the coms.

“Why, Cabe, I do believe you’re proud of me,” Toby smiled.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“A little bit. Very little. Too small to mention.”

“Five seconds,” Paige said. “Four, three, two, one.”

Toby gently rolled the container in his hands, then gave it a firmer shake. “Good as your word, Happy,” he said as he exited the containment room and began stripping off his protective gear.

“We’re ready to go,” Cabe said, pausing inside the lab’s exit until Paige gave the all-clear. He turned to Toby, who secured the canister in his backpack. “You keep this laser focus until we’re clear.” Toby nodded.

“Go, Cabe,” Paige called. You’re clear in corridor B-4. Down and to your left. Back the way you came in.”

“What’s the status on Walter and Tim?” Cabe asked before opening the door.

“Maintaining radio silence as they work their way down the stairwell, which is slow going, the potential for noise is much higher than when they were climbing,” Paige said as Toby and Cabe worked their way down the corridor. 

Cabe slowed, Toby behind him, as they approached an intersection in the hallway.

“Ok, Cabe,” Paige’s voice came, “You’re clear to make that left into—”

An alarm ripped through the air, so intense and unexpected that Toby involuntarily doubled over, holding his head as the noise seemed to pierce his skull. He heard Cabe scream something, then felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, squinting his eyes against the new onslaught of red strobe lights in the corridor.

Cabe pointed up, to the emergency speaker directly over their heads, and pulled Toby around the corner, away from the worst of the noise.

“They _might_ know we’re here now,” Toby rasped, pain lancing from one temple to the other, right through his eyes.

“That’s us,” Walter called, clearly out of breath. “We ran across a guard, but he’s disabled and we’re two floors above you now.”

“Happy, bug out!” Tim called.

“Bugging out,” Happy replied. “You guys had better be on my six.”

“We’re right behind you,” Walter answered.

“Did you hit your head?” 

It took Toby a moment to process that the last voice was in his com and right next to him. “What?”

“Toby, did you hit your head?” Cabe shouted in his ear, and only then did Toby realize that he was still doubled over, holding his head.

“No,” he breathed. “It’s just…so much,” he settled for, lamely. “So loud.”

Cabe’s brow furrowed. “I’ll get us out, just stay with me. Just move your feet, that’s all you’ve got to do.”

“Yeah,” Toby croaked, struggling to straighten up.

They continued to work their way through the halls with Paige’s instructions. Toby couldn’t focus on most of them over the sound of the sirens, settling for responding to Cabe’s pushes and pulls as he tried to shut out the assault on his senses, added to the cacophony of the team’s voices in his ear, focusing on remaining upright and keeping his feet moving.

He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but Toby couldn’t mistake the frantic tone in Paige’s voice that immediately preceded Cabe’s hard shove that sent him sprawling on the floor in a side hall, followed by the sounds of gunfire. The pain in his head ratcheted up a notch, his vision wavering, nausea threatening.

“…pinned down!” he heard Cabe yell. “Corridor B-1, 50 feet from the stairwell.”

He turned back to Toby, and hauled him to his feet, keeping his head low. “We’re going to have to run for it,” he pulled a flashbang out of his vest and held it up between them. “Cover, then haul ass.”

Toby clapped his hands over his ears and his shut eyes, steeled for what would come next, readied himself to run as if the flashbang was a starter pistol. He felt the concussive blast, despite Cabe’s lengthy throw, saw the light from behind his eyelids, but he couldn’t run. The world became a jumble of sound, movement, blurred light and shadow, head-splitting pain, and nausea, and he was powerless to do anything but drift in it.

His ears rung for what seemed like an eternity, and he was lost in the sensation, but slowly, voices from his com began to invade his awareness.

“Toby’s down! Tim, Walter, where the hell are you?”

“What do you mean, he’s down? What happened to him?!?”

“Eastbound in corridor B-4, we’re forty-five seconds away. Hold your position.”

“I don’t know, he’s barely conscious.”

“I’m on my way in.” _No, dammit, Happy…_

“Happy, no, stay where you are. We’re gonna scoop and run, we’ll worry about what’s wrong later.”

“We don’t have forty-five seconds. You gotta get up, kid.” And Toby felt the sensation of moving, but not under his own power. “Open your eyes, Toby, and get on your feet.”

At some point, his eyes seemed to open of their own volition, treating him to a dizzying blur of flooring and baseboards, walls and Cabe, wedged under his right arm, all bathed in flashing red light. Dimly, he realized the unintelligible moan he heard next emanated from him.

“Move, Doc,” Cabe said. “Move your feet; we’re close.”

Toby thought he was complying until he felt both of them crumple in a heap against the nearest wall. “Dammit,” he heard Cabe mutter, then, “thank God.”

More shouts, then Tim’s voice, very close, as he felt additional support under his other arm, and then he was moving, head bobbing against his will. The stairs were a blur of treads and stumbles and God, the damn alarms were even louder here. Tim’s shouts for Walter to take his place as he charged up the stairs. Walter’s voice in his ear, as close to panicked as he’d ever heard it — _we’ve got ya, Pal, just keep moving, we’re almost there_ — and finally, finally the worst of the sound and light fell away from them as night air surrounded him and his footing changed.

He rallied without the active assault on his senses. The blaring was reduced to just the agony between his ears, a physiological echo of sirens and strobe lights that left him weak and nauseated. But his feet became steadier, and he heard encouragement from Walter and Cabe on either side of him, and other shouts that he didn’t understand, and assumed weren't meant for him.

Gunshots behind them made the blurry sight of the van an even more welcome relief, and it seemed as if they all tumbled into the back in a heap, followed by a flourish of slamming doors and Cabe’s shouts of “Go, go, go!” and Toby felt his eyes close, the last of his energy spent.

The next thing he knew, the pain was worse, and wrapped in a lightheadedness that stole his ability to move or speak. Fingertips came to rest over his carotid, then roamed his frame, and he forced his eyes open, surprised to see the inside of the van. He couldn’t have been out long, he mused idly.

“He’s not hit, there’s no blood,” he watched Tim call to the front seat as he bent over him. “Yes, I’m sure.” He shook his head. “I’m not finding any major injuries. It’s gotta be that flashbang.”

“He was already woozy before that flashbang, but that certainly didn’t help,” Cabe’s gruff voice came from somewhere to his left.

“This is what they're designed to do,” Tim said. “Maybe…I don’t know maybe in conjunction with everything yesterday? All I’ve got is basic medic training.”

“Whitehull’s ER is ready receive us!” Sylvester’s frantic voice pierced the air.

“He’s awake,” Walter bent into his line of vision, voice high-pitched and strained. “Hey, Pal. Hey, you’re OK. You’re safe.” He felt a hand come to rest on top of his head, and it hurt, but the new pain receded quickly, replaced by a vaguely comforting sensation. “It’s good that you’re awake. You need to _stay_ awake, Toby.”

“Homeland’s biohazard team is going to intercept us at the hospital, we can complete the handoff there.” That was Paige.

“Toby,” Tim said loudly, bending further over him, and Toby felt himself flinch. “Sensitivity to loud noises, this is definitely a head injury,” Tim mumbled to someone. “Toby, I’m trying to check you out. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Toby opened his mouth, intending to say something about his head popping off his shoulders, about head injuries and tinnitus and concussions and he’d be checking himself out, _thank you very much, basic medic training_ , but for reasons he couldn’t understand, all of that came out as a tiny moan.

“Toby, can you tell me where it hurts?”

What the hell had happened, anyway? And where the hell was…

_I’m on my way in_ , her voice floated back to him. Surely she hadn’t…but then where…

“Ha…ppy?” He wasn’t entirely sure anything came out.

“What was that, Pal?” Walter bent closer.

“Where…where’s…” he swallowed, tried to force more air into his lungs. “…Happy?”

“Happy!” Walter called, and Toby flinched again. “Sorry, Pal,” he lowered his voice. “She’s here, she’s driving.”

“Kid, lemme take that wheel, you check on the doc,” Toby heard Cabe call.

And then she was there, tiny form replacing Walter’s on his right side. “Hey, Doc,” she said softly, hand coming to rest on his chest. “You have to stay awake, okay?”

“‘Kay,” he breathed. “So…glad you didn’t…come in there,” he squeaked. “That…that would have been…” his eyes dropped closed as a new wave of pain pulsed behind them, “…would have been…not good…as you say.” God, he felt so much worse all of a sudden. “Did we…did we, um…did I lose…”

“Toby,” Tim’s voice snapped his eyes open again. “Toby, you don’t look so good, okay?” Toby felt Tim’s fingers at his carotid again. “I think maybe all this talking isn’t good for you. If it’s brain injury, you trying to focus could do more harm than good. Why don’t you just lie still and rest, okay?” Tim patted his shoulder, and Toby wanted to roll his eyes. “Rest, and don’t talk, just focus on staying awake.” Tim looked at Happy pointedly. “Happy’s gonna talk to you to help you stay awake. You just take it easy.” 

Toby’s eyes followed Tim as he leaned away and began to speak animatedly with someone beyond his peripheral vision.

“Doc?” he felt Happy’s hands wrap around his, and with more difficulty than he would have liked, he dragged his eyes back to hers. She gave him a little smile that did nothing to hide her concern and squeezed his hand. “Squeeze my hands, OK? Stay with me.”

He wanted to tell her he was fine. That this wasn’t good, obviously, but he was fine. He’d live. He knew what needed to be done. It was right on the tip of his tongue. But he wasn't supposed to talk, and it seemed like so much effort anyway. So, he just clamped down on her hands as she’d asked.

“That’s good,” she said with a little smile, and gave his hand another squeeze. “That’s good. Keep doing that.” She gulped air, looking around the van for her next words. “We’re just gonna take you to get checked out. We’re minutes away.” She raised her eyebrows. “No dodging it this time.”

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to dodge it. This sure as hell wasn’t normal. But the thought of nodding his approval made him want to puke, so he squeezed her hand a little tighter, and she returned the gesture, seeming to understand. “That’s right, no dodging it this time,” she said. “So just stay with me until we get there, OK? I’m sure they can do something to help.”

Paige’s voice floated past him then, unintelligible, but Happy seemed to understand and nodded. “Doc, you’re doing great,” she said, and Toby quirked one corner of his mouth. Happy smiled back and he wanted to laugh at her, because of course Paige had told her to just be comforting, to just be soothing, to stop talking about what was wrong, and God, how he wanted to rib her for that.

“Toby, your breathing is a little labored, can you try and take slower, deeper breaths?” she said, and reached forward, brushing his hair off his forehead. Her change in position caused the world to flip between his ears, and oh, hell, she was right, his breathing was labored and shallow and he couldn’t slow it down. He was losing consciousness. He would be OK; they were on their way to the hospital, but Happy was going to freak. Dammit.

“Don’t…freak out, OK?” he mumbled, and hoped she could understand him as blackness began to crawl in from the edges of his vision. “Don’t…it’ll be…OK…”

He was past speech, but he felt his hand go limp in hers, heard her pleading with him to open his eyes, heard Tim’s shouts to the same effect, felt his shoulder being jostled, then the voices floated away as he was pulled under and finally, finally, he had some relief from the pounding between his ears.


	6. I Will Try to Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everything and nothing is going to be OK.

**Chapter 6: I Will Try to Fix You**

**high up above or down below, when you’re too in love to let it go, but if you never try you’ll never know just what you’re worth. - coldplay, ‘fix you’**

* * *

The closer Toby came to surfacing, the more pain began to seep into various parts of his body like a sickness. But it wasn’t until he felt a set of fingertips brush his forehead that he became oriented enough inside his own body to crack his eyes open. 

“Hi there,” a warm voice said, softly. “Welcome back.”

Toby blinked long, eyes slowly opening further.

“Dr. Curtis? You’re at Whitehull Hospital. You lost consciousness and were brought here for treatment.”

Another blink. Two. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I mem…I remember.”

“We’ve run some tests, and your doctor will be here shortly,” the woman said, then reached toward his face. 

Toby raised his hand instinctively. “What —”

The woman opened her hand. “They’re just electrodes. Dr. Hamilton wants an EEG. I’m told you’re a physician; do you understand?”

“Mmm hmm,” Toby let his hand fall to his stomach and his eyes fall closed. “S’overkill,” he whispered as she applied the second electrode near his hairline, then his eyes opened with alarm. “Wait, did I have a seizure?”

“Not since you’ve been here,” the woman said, and Toby closed his eyes again. “But the doctor is working to determine the reason you lost consciousness. Can you tell me your name?”

“Toby Curtis. Tobias. Tobias Curtis. Can you?”

The woman laid a gentle hand on his shoulder since his eyes were closed. “I’m Joy. I’m one of your nurses.”

Toby’s lips curled up.

“What’s that smile for?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “You’ll see. Later. They run an MRI?”

“Yes.”

“How long was I out?”

“Almost two hours.”

Toby sighed. “Whatever you’re giving me for pain isn’t coming close to doing the job.”

“It’s just acetaminophen for now, until Dr. Hamilton issues a diagnosis. Try to hang in there. Where’s your pain now on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Eight.”

“And before you were brought to the hospital?”

“Damn near ten.”

“Ten?”

“I know the human body is capable of processing far more pain than that, but that…I think that was a personal record,” Toby mumbled, drawing his forearm across his eyes. “Listen, I had people with me when I came in here; where—”

“Actually,” Joy tapped him on the arm, and he opened his eyes, “you still do.” She pointed to the far wall.

The remaining six members of Scorpion crowded in the hallway on the other side of an observation window, stock still, stopping just short of pressing their noses to the glass. After a moment, Sylvester waved anxiously.

Toby pushed himself higher in the inclined bed. “They were just…watching me —”

“Well, we were just getting you settled in this room, but yes.”

“God, that is creepy,” he breathed. 

“They’ve been very concerned,” Joy said, as she checked the monitors surrounding Toby’s bed. “Apparently, you gave them quite a scare.”

“What the hell are you all _doing_?” Toby mouthed, spreading his arms, and waved them inside.

“It’s family only in here, Dr. Curtis.”

“They are family,” Toby said as the door opened. “Gang, I love you,” he sighed, “but you could make a traveling band of circus freaks look normal.”

“The doctor is on the way, and when he gets here you’ll all need to step out,” Joy said.

“First one of you who speaks above a whisper gets something thrown at you,” Toby mumbled, eyes slipping closed again. “Joy? A heavy object to throw at the first offender, please. It’s gonna be _that_ one, by the way,” he said cracking his eyes open to look at Joy. “That’s Sylvester. Bring me something heavy to throw at Sylvester, please.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” she smiled at the group and stepped out of the room.

“Well,” Cabe said softly, “You’re already running your trap a mile a minute, I guess you can’t be too bad off.”

Toby met his eyes, all trace of levity suddenly gone. “Tell me I didn’t lose that canister.”

“You didn’t,” Paige said to the shaking heads of the others. “We’ve already handed it off to Homeland’s bioterrorism team.”

Toby heaved a big sigh of relief and rubbed a hand across his eyes, surprised when he felt the pull of an IV line. “Everybody else OK?” he asked, turning the IV pole to examine the contents of the bag hung at the top.

“All good,” Walter said. “What about you?”

“Doctor’s looking at the MRI, but I’m _fine_ ,” he said, tilting his head to look at Happy, who was a ball of tension at the back of the group, staring at him wordlessly. “Or I will be, if they’ll give me something for this headache.”

Sylvester’s expression grew concerned. “They _still_ haven’t given you anything?”

Toby flinched at Sylvester’s high-pitched tone. “Where is Joy with my heavy object?” he muttered, and Paige swatted Sly’s shoulder.  “They’re giving me Tylenol if you can believe that,” Toby studiously ignored Happy as she finally began to step closer. “He needs to examine me while I’m awake before they do anything to mask any symptoms.” He subtly laid the arm nearest to Happy close to the edge of the bed. “I can’t believe I missed your reaction to being in a van with a thermos full of smallpox, Sly.”

“It went about how you’d expect,” Tim said, and Happy laid her hand beside Toby’s on the sheet, a single finger resting on one of his knuckles.

“Kid, you did great,” Cabe said. “You were fantastic in that lab.”

Toby smiled and looked over at Happy, and brushed the side of her hand with his finger. “Your invention worked like a charm, Hap.”

Happy allowed herself a tight, toothless smile, then a sheepish glance down before looking back at Toby. “‘Course it did,” she said, bouncing once on her heels, and Cabe laughed softly.

The doctor opened the door. “If you’re not in the bed, you don’t belong in here.”

Toby suppressed a groan of frustration. Just when Happy had started unclenching. “OK, everybody out.” Paige began to herd the group through the door, and Toby flipped his hand and grasped Happy’s finger between two of his, shaking it gently. “But, uh, but come back later?” Happy rewarded him with a dimpled smile.

* * *

The doctor’s physical exam only took 10 minutes, but Toby could already feel himself starting to fade, exhausted by the events of the night and the persistent ache between his ears, when he settled back against the mattress.

“You’re sure you want all these people present for this?” Dr. Hamilton asked as the door opened.

“It’s efficient,” Toby shrugged then pointed at Cabe as he re-entered the room. “This one is the agent-in-charge, and he’ll have to write an incident report for Homeland. This one,” he said, pointing to Walter, “thinks he has a right to know, and if you don’t tell him, he’ll just hack your system and get what he wants. And this one,” his voice softened as Happy re-entered the room, “well, I just like having her around, I guess.”

“I’ve spoken with Agent Gallo, but for the rest of you, I’m Dr. Hamilton,” the physician said as the group surrounded Toby’s bed. “I’m the neurologist in charge of Dr. Curtis’s case. While we were running tests, Agent Gallo gave me some background on the work you do, what happened just prior to your loss of consciousness tonight, and the events from the past few days. Based on the tests and the physical exams I’ve conducted, I’ve determined that you have a grade —”

“Grade 3 concussion as a result of the initial blow to the head, sprained neck, multiple contusions, and…oh,” he gestured with the hand with the IV in it, “dehydration, I guess.”

Dr. Hamilton nodded. “It’s fairly mild, probably occurred during the initial incident and then you didn’t up your fluid intake enough afterward.”

“Can’t believe I missed that,” Toby looked up at the saline IV bag. “I also…” he rubbed his forehead, embarrassed, “have been taking ibuprofen continually since Saturday morning.” He puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled. “I was focused on the neck sprain and muscle aches, the concussion just…slipped my mind, I guess.”

Dr. Hamilton’s eyes widened in mild disapproval. “Then it’s a good thing I already ran the MRI,” he said as he brought the images up on one of the bedside monitors. “You need to discontinue all NSAIDs immediately, but the MRI rules out intracranial bleeding or swelling. There’s good blood flow to both hemispheres of the brain. We’ve ruled out skull fracture. There’s no evidence of seizure at this point; I’d like to run the EEG a while longer to be sure. The first blow to the head was on the back right side near the crown; contusion’s consistent with a blunt object.”

“Probably,” Toby said. “I’ve pieced together from these guys that it happened in a parking garage downtown. I remember being there. I remember…um, completing the errand I was there to run. I don’t remember the moment of impact.”

“That means you have memories within minutes of the injury, that’s good. Do you know how long you were out?”

Toby let his head fall back against the pillow. “I know it happened at 6:30 or 7 Thursday night, and the next thing I knew the sun was up.”

“That’s some blow to the head,” Dr. Hamilton said. “Do you remember the second? The one on the left side?”

“I didn’t even know it was there until you mentioned it,” Toby said, probing the spot above his left ear gently with his fingertips. “I didn’t even realize…maybe I didn’t go down after the first hit.”

Dr. Hamilton shook his head. “Based on the discoloration at the scalp, this contusion is about 24 hours newer than the other. It was a separate injury. Based on the headache you’ve been describing and your other injuries, you likely chalked up any symptoms to your existing injuries.”

“Twenty-four hours later would place it around the time of the rescue,” Walter said.

“Oh. I did it,” Happy whispered hoarsely. "Just like your arm. I did it when I tackled you."

“Happy, we’ve been over this,” Toby tried to comfort.

Cabe took the initiative to explain to the doctor. “Things got a little hairy during the rescue. These two,” he pointed to Happy and Toby, “ended up taking a dive onto a concrete floor. Toby was restrained at the time, and couldn’t do much to catch himself.”

“Did you lose consciousness again?” Dr. Hamilton asked.

“No,” Toby said.

“You were lightheaded,” Happy said, sounding impossibly small. “You were disoriented, and lightheaded for a few minutes.”

The doctor nodded. “So, we’re dealing with concurrent injuries, each concussion-grade, one more minor than the other. That doesn’t change how we treat this, but it does help explain the severity of your reaction tonight, and underscores the importance of taking it easy until you’re recovered.”

Toby’s eyes remained on Happy as she sunk into a chair by the bed, the very picture of guilt. “So the issue tonight was a syncope, then?”

Dr. Hamilton nodded, then looked at the others. “Essentially, he fainted, most likely brought about by his system being overwhelmed by the intense stimuli he experienced tonight — the alarms, gunfire, and explosions you described, Agent Gallo. At this point in his recovery he should be resting, not going into combat conditions. It was more than his injured brain could handle in its current state.”

“I was there, Doctor, the man was in agony. And he was out for two hours,” Cabe said. “That seems a lot more severe than fainting.”

“Think of the stimuli as worsening the symptoms of the injuries he already had. The increasing pain is likely what eventually caused him to lose consciousness. The two hours before he came to are likely due to the concussion. Again, the MRI shows there’s no swelling or bleeding in the brain. Considering everything his body has been through the past few days, I'm not concerned at this point about the length of time he was out.”

“So what’s the prognosis?” Cabe asked.

“He needs rest, and a lot of it,” Dr. Hamilton said. “I’d like to keep him overnight so we can give him something for the pain while we keep him under observation, and take care of the dehydration. If all goes well, we’ll discharge him in the morning, then I want him restricted to light duty for a few days. He should follow up with me in a week, but if he stays away from work like what you all did tonight, he should recover fully. That neck sprain will bother him a lot longer than the head injuries, believe it or not.”

Happy raised her eyes to the doctor. “He’ll be OK?”

“He is remarkably lucid considering the state he was in when he got here,” Dr. Hamilton said. “If he slows down for a few days, he’ll be just fine.”

Happy relaxed visibly, finally daring to sneak a glance at Toby.

“So…” Toby said, holding Happy’s gaze. “Speaking of splitting headaches, what’s a guy gotta do to get a narcotic around here?”

“Considering the age of the injuries, I’ll add some codeine into the mix,” Dr. Hamilton said. “Now, that may cause the lightheadedness to return, so we’ll need to wean you off of that before we discharge you so we’ve got a clear picture of how you’re doing. For now, just get some rest. A nurse will be in in a minute, and I’ll check on you later.”

He stepped away to a chorus of thank-you’s.

Walter worked the tendons in his jaw as he considered his next words. “Toby…”

“Well,” Cabe cut him off. “What a relief. Right, Walter? I gotta tell you, Doc, you scared the hell out of me when you went down in that basement tonight.”

“I know,” Toby sighed, feeling more exhausted by the minute. “Sorry, Cabe.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cabe said with forced joviality. “Walter, let’s go. The doc needs his rest. Kid, you gonna hang out here tonight?”

Happy nodded.

“You sure you don’t need some sleep, Hap?” Toby asked hesitantly. “I’m gonna be out like a light most of the time.”

She turned the corners of her mouth up at him. “Don’t try to kick me out,” she said.

Relief bloomed in his chest, despite the exhaustion pulling at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He lolled his head to the other side of the bed when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Get some rest, Doc. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Cabe. Hey, tonight, thanks for —”

“Happy to do it, kid,” he smiled, then stepped back. “Let’s go, Walter.”

Walter stepped forward into the space Cabe had vacated, staring intensely at Toby. Finally he took a hand out of his pocket and briefly laid it on Toby’s arm. “Good work tonight, Toby,” he said, then turned to follow Cabe. “Happy, good work,” he called over his shoulder.

“You’ll ream my ass later, huh?” Toby called after him.

“Absolutely,” Walter said, never breaking his stride.

* * *

“So, how long before he starts singing show tunes?” Happy asked, pulling her chair close as Joy added pain medication to Toby’s IV.

“Doesn’t work like that,” Toby mumbled, eyes already closed. “Oh, the moment I’ve been waiting for. Happy, Joy, Joy, Happy,” he waved his hand sloppily between them. “Heh. Head injury or not, that’s just funny.”

“No it isn’t,” Happy and Joy said in unison.

“I’m regretting the decision to introduce you two.”

“Everybody reacts differently to medication,” Joy said to Happy. “He’ll be loopy, and probably lightheaded or dizzy, but hopefully, this will relieve enough of the headache to allow him to get some sleep.” 

“I’m not singin’,” Toby cracked his eyes open to look at Happy. “I am not your built-in entertainment.”

“Hey, do you want an icepack for your neck?” Happy asked.

“Trust me, in a few minutes my neck is not going to be bothering me one bit,” he sighed.

“Let her dote on you,” Joy smiled. “It makes us feel better. I’ll bring one just in case. Given the elapsed time since the head injuries, we’re not going to wake you periodically. We’ll just keep an eye on your vitals throughout the night. I’ll drop that icepack off, then be back in about an hour; call if you need anything before then.” She turned the lights down as she left.

“Hmm, since when do you dote on me?” Toby asked with a grin.

“I…” Happy found herself opening her hand hesitantly, and her relief was palpable when he laced his fingers with hers. “I reserve the right to do that from time to time. When I crack your head open on a concrete floor, I figure I can pamper you for a little while.”

“Use of humor to misdirect,” Toby mumbled, his words already starting to take on a dreamy quality. “OK, really quickly, while I’ve got some brainpower left. Riddle me this, Happy Quinn. Would you feel better if I didn’t have this bruised arm and this bump on the side of the head, but no longer had a face because you didn’t tackle me in that warehouse, and that jar had fallen on me?”

Happy’s vision swam as her eyes filled with tears. “I told you to stop saying things like that, dammit, Doc,” she growled. 

“I’m not trying to upset you,” he squeezed her hand, “I’m just saying, give the guilt trip a rest, already.”

“Hey,” she leaned her elbows on the edge of the bed, “my guilt trip is none of your business right now. You are the one in the hospital bed, which means that at the moment, _I_ am the worrier and _you_ are the…worry-ee.”

“That sounded ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Happy said. “This happening to you, it’s my…” she cut herself off, rubbing her thumb against his as her eyes traveled the monitors displaying his vitals. Finally, she allowed a tiny shake of her head. “It’s not ridiculous. But you need to get some sleep now, Toby.”

Toby furrowed his brow, watching her closely. “I meant…I meant ‘worry-ee’ sounded ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Happy said, eyes widening. “No, it didn’t.”

Toby scowled at her another few seconds. “What the hell kind of neurosis are you cooking up over there?” A wave of dizziness rolled through him, but he was grateful for the pain relief it brought with it. “OK. Never mind for now. But we’re coming back to this.”

“Meds just kicked in?”

He hummed an affirmative from behind closed eyes.

“Head pain better?”

“Better.” He opened his eyes, but his voice was already thick with sleep. “Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaked out, Doc.”

“Totally freaked out,” he said. “S’just a concussion, Hap. I was dumb about the after-care. I’m fine. Un-freak yourself, please.”

Happy ran her thumb over his knuckles. “That sounded kinda dirty.”

He cracked a goofy grin. “That was how I meant it.”

“Get some sleep, Stubborn.”

“‘Kay,” he pulled her hand a little closer and closed his eyes. “Sleep.”

“Yes, sleep.”

He knit his brows together momentarily. “ _You_ sleep.”

“I will,” she placated.

A few seconds passed, and she thought he was out, then a tiny mumble. “No show tunes. Told ya.”

“Yes, you did. Go. To. Sleep.”

“Love you,” he sighed, and it made her long to be wrapped in his arms, where those were always the last words he whispered in her ear at night.

She bit her lip. “I…I love you, too.”

She waited for some response, a surprised opening of eyes, a dopey grin, a smart-ass remark that it took putting him in a hospital bed for her to say it. But he was already asleep.

“Great, Happy,” she muttered to herself. “Perfect timing, as always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little transitional, but hopefully still enjoyable. You'll see more plot movement in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, for the kudos and comments. Makes me so glad I finally broke down and did this.


	7. Now, of All the Times, and Here, of All the Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby's on the road to physical recovery, but the team is concerned that they may not know the true extent of his injuries yet. As his behavior becomes more erratic, Happy struggles with how to help him, and finds herself saddled with some of the blame.

**Chapter 7: Now, of All the Times, and Here, of All the Places**

**no one understands the weak and heavy-hearted, ‘cause no one sees their end ’til they’re right back where they started. - ben west, ‘dust’**

* * *

_Sunday Morning_

Happy shifted restlessly in the chair, refusing to open her eyes, despite her stiff muscles. 

“Even when you can’t possibly be the least bit comfortable, you still don't like waking up.”

Happy’s eyes shot open to see Toby reclined on top of the covers, tinkering with his phone.

“Whoa,” Happy climbed out of the chair, pushing aside the blanket that covered her. “You look so much better. How do you—” she put her hands on either side of his face and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, “ — feel?”

Toby’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “A whole hell of a lot better than I did three seconds ago,” he grinned.

She returned his smile. “Seriously.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Some sleep, some fluids…I think I’m over the hump.”

“How’s your head?”

“Some residual ache. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Happy dropped her hands to his shoulders, still grinning ear to ear. “You look…a lot better.” She leaned back when she noticed his t-shirt and jeans. “You put your clothes back on.”

“Little disappointed about that, Lamb Chop?”

She was starting to feel like a grinning idiot. “You make me nuts, you know that?”

“Hell, I pride myself on that,” he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, then waved that hand at her. “No more IV, no more electrodes. I wasn’t attached to anything but the pulse ox, so I figured, why not? I’m ready to get out of here.” He let his head drop back against the pillow. “You have your patented crazy bedhead even when you sleep in a chair.”

She rolled her eyes, but damn it all, she couldn’t stop grinning. “You have crazy bedhead in the middle of the day sometimes.” 

“Geez, would ya look at that smile?” he teased. “Happy is happy, huh? I _like_ happy Happy.”

“Shut up.” She twisted the material of his sleeve between her fingers. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I…kinda feel like I haven’t seen you in days. I…missed you, I think.”

“It’s not crazy,” he said. “To be honest, I…sorta feel the same way.” He scrunched his face up. “Gonna try not to overwork my brain at the moment, though, OK? Headache-free is a good thing.”

Happy nodded. “Okay, but, just…if it won’t overwork your brain…” She closed the distance between them and kissed him again.

Toby pulled back a fraction of an inch. “I scared the hell out of you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No overworking your brain,” she mumbled against his lips, as the door opened.

“Personally, I find that adorable, but Dr. Hamilton will disagree.”

“Joy,” Toby said. “Thanks for taking such good care of my girl.”

Happy pushed away, wide-eyed. “You’ve been saving that for some time when you knew I wouldn’t punch you for it.”

“That’s kinda hard to deny.”

“I’m just gonna start a tab for you, and punch you later. But seriously, Joy,” Happy held up the blanket she’d slept under. “Thank you.”

“We women with synonymous names, we’ve gotta look out for each other,” Joy smiled, then put her hands on her hips. “Dr. Curtis, you’re dressed in street clothes.”

“Can’t sneak anything past you, Joy.”

“Dr. Hamilton’s not going to be a fan of that, either.”

“He’ll live,” Toby winked at her. “Not that we don’t enjoy your company, but any idea how soon he might—”

“He just started morning rounds at the other end of the floor,” Joy said. “Where’s your pain now?”

“Two. Neck’s a two; head’s actually a little better than that,” Toby said, already fiddling with his phone again.

“That’s what we like to hear,” she said, making a note in the chart. She craned her neck, looking down the hall for the doctor. “Pulse ox back on,” she pointed to the discarded fingertip device as she backed out of the room, “and I’m not taking the heat for your wardrobe.”

Toby rolled his eyes as he reached for the pulse ox. “Fair enough.”

“I guess we’re gonna need a ride,” Happy mumbled, feeling her pockets for her phone. 

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Toby waved his phone at her. “I hate to bring Cabe back out here after everything he did yesterday, but I don’t want to hear Walter’s lecture yet.”

“What about Paige?”

“So early? With Ralph?”

A text chime sounded on Toby’s phone. 

“Sounds like somebody’s up already,” Happy said.

“It’s Sly,” Toby said. “So no luck with the ride. Hey, maybe we should just take a…”

Happy pulled her attention away from gathering their things when Toby stopped talking. “What?”

Toby continued staring at the phone.

“Doc?” 

Toby’s only response was to run a hand across the back of his head. 

Happy laid her hand on his leg. “Hey.”

Toby jerked his head up. “Hmm?”

Happy nodded at the phone. “Is it bad news? From Sly?”

“Hmm?” Toby repeated, then dropped his eyes back to the phone. “No, he’s just checking in.”

“Doc, what’s —”

“Hey, would you mind to see if you can track Joy down? I should probably start icing this sprain again before they discharge me.”

“Sure,” Happy nodded hesitantly. 

“And, um, could you…work on getting us a ride? Doctor’s probably gonna kick you out anyway.”

“No problem,” Happy said. “Hey, are you OK?”

“Yeah,” Toby waved his hand before going back to absently rubbing the back of his head. “I just…uh…I want to respond to this.”

Happy studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “OK,” she said. “I’ll track down that icepack.”

Toby said nothing as she left, just continued to stare down at the half-finished text that had appeared when he’d opened the message from Sly. There was a picture he’d taken in the parking garage, his own hand holding the ring box, and the words he could now vividly remember typing.

_Check this out, Sly. Is this perfect or w—_

He could almost feel the hollow thud at the back of his head, remembered his neck snapping forward violently, the pavement tilting beneath his feet as everything went fuzzy. _That_ was how it had started. He’d been texting Sly, excited that the ring had turned out just as he’d envisioned.

Dr. Hamilton’s opening of the door startled him, and he dragged a hand down his face as he locked his phone, then plastered a smile on in response to the doctor’s question about how he was doing.

* * *

“You are blatantly defying doctor’s orders right now,” Paige lectured as she stood over Toby’s prone form, arms crossed.

“Office Mom, the doctor’s orders are rest and light duty. I am lying on a couch working on a case report. I’m following both orders at once,” Toby said, tapping on his keyboard. “If you're interested, I can also walk, talk and chew gum at the same time.”

“I brought you two back here because your cars were both here,” Paige pointed through the wall to the alley. 

“Well, I can’t drive my car for a few days, thanks to the neurologist and his control issues.”

“One of us can take you—”

“Give it up, Dineen,” Happy said as she returned from the kitchen. “Like all stubborn mules, he has made up his mind to be here, so here is where he’ll be, one way or ten others.” She set a bottle of water on the coffee table beside Toby. “Drink this.”

Toby reached for the water bottle without looking away from the screen. “Thanks.”

“I think this is really stupid,” Paige said.

“What’s really stupid?” Cabe asked as he came through the door. “Oh…” he groaned as he caught sight of Toby. “Yeah, _that’s_ really stupid.”

“Hello to you, too,” Toby said. 

“Doctor’s orders were rest and light duty, Toby,” Cabe said in warning tone.

Toby looked at him with eyes wide as saucers. “Rest,” he said indicating his spot on the couch with a flourish of his arms. “Light duty,” he said with an exaggerated pantomime of typing.

“How about just taking it easy for a day? It’s Sunday.”

“Whole team’s here, working on Sunday,” Toby said. “Actually,” he jerked his thumb at Walter and Sly, “some of the team is working Sunday, the rest of the team is just riding my ass.”

“The whole team did not collapse on the job last night, Doc,” Cabe said. “Take a day, for a God’s sake.”

“I just woke up two hours ago after spending 10 hours sleeping the sleep of the drugged,” Toby said. “I’ll be fine for a few hours, then I’ll nap. I just wanna get this case report done while it’s all fresh in my mind.”

“Actually,” Tim said, “Rest with a severe concussion also includes limiting screen time and socialization.”

Toby hauled himself into a seated position, eyeing Cabe, Paige and Tim carefully. “Walter, what’s with the normals?”

“There has been protracted discussion since last night about their concern for your physical condition,” Walter’s eyes never left his screen.

“You don’t have that problem, huh?”

“I do, actually. But like Happy,” Walter said, “I know a lost cause when I see one. It is inefficient to bang one’s head against a brick wall.”

Sylvester piped up.“They just want to make sure you recover completely, Toby.”

Toby rolled his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch. “You googled ‘grade 3 concussion’ and saw the term ‘mild traumatic brain injury’ and flipped your collective lids, didn’t you?”

“And, thank God I did, or you’d be ignoring doctor’s orders unchecked right now,” Paige said. 

“It’s mild! It’s right there in the name!”

“It’s also _traumatic_. And _injury_. To the _brain_. That’s all right there in the name, too,” Paige said.

“One hour,” Toby negotiated. “I’ll get this report done, then I’ll cut out the screen time.”

Paige crossed her arms over his chest. “Forty-five minutes.”

Toby huffed and opened the laptop again. “Done.”

Paige walked away, seemingly satisfied.

“Hey,” Happy perched on the edge of the coffee table by his knees. 

“I’d love to talk, but apparently _I’m under a time crunch_.” Paige simply arched an eyebrow from her desk.

“Okay,” Happy clapped her knees nervously with her hands. “I just…didn’t you say you wanted to be sure not to overwork your brain?”

“Yeah,” he sucked one side of his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at the screen. “I’m not.” 

“Writing case reports?”

“I’m just summarizing actions I took last night,” he met her eyes for the first time. “I actually find that mentally calming. Forces me to focus, but it doesn't tax me. It's just exposition. Seriously, don’t worry.”

Happy pressed her lips together and squinted at him. “And…you find that easier on your brain than talking about...the last few days?”

Toby stopped typing and looked at up her.

Happy looked at him expectantly. “You and me and...feeling like we hadn't spoken in days? From the hospital this morning?”

It was Toby’s turn to squint. “Happy, I find almost anything easier on my brain than the last few days and whatever the hell is going on with this,” he waved a hand between the two of them, “right now.”

Happy stared at him, stunned. 

He cocked his head and seemed to feel a pang of regret. “I'm not trying to be an asshole about this, I just—”

Happy held up a hand to stop him and stood. “Got it,” she whispered. “I'll let you work.”

“Just need a break from it, is what I’m—”

She turned both palms toward him. “Understand.” The reassurance was strangled. “You should…” she nodded at the laptop, “work.” She pointed toward her workbench when words failed her, and turned quickly on her heel.

* * *

_Monday Afternoon: One Day Later_

“Were you aware that by this point, some of your colleagues…your friends were beginning to be concerned about your behavior?” Dr. Bissell asked.

“Well, I’ve been concerned with their behavior for _years_ ,” Toby said. He was met with an arched eyebrow. “Ack,” he let his head fall backward onto the couch. “I knew they were concerned about my injuries after what happened the night before. But what was going on in their heads was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“What _was_ on your mind?” Bissell asked.

* * *

_Sunday: One Day Earlier_

Paige grabbed lunch for the group out of the back floorboard of her car, but startled so badly when she turned around to see Happy standing a foot away that she nearly dropped it.

“Sorry,” Happy said.

“It’s OK,” Paige said, then knit her brows together. “Did you need something?”

“Um…” Happy’s eyes wandered the space around them. “Do you need any help?” she nodded to the packages in Paige’s hands.

“Sure,” Paige handed her two of the bags, but Happy remained where she was. “Happy? Did you need something else?”

Happy dipped her chin, dropped her eyes to the bags still in Paige’s hands. “Some advice? If you don’t mind?”

It was Paige’s turn to lower her eyes. “I’m glad to listen.”

Happy set the bags on top of Paige’s trunk. “It’s, ah…no secret that I’m not the best with the…” she tilted her head from side to side, “interpersonal…emotional…stuff.”

Paige nodded slowly.

Happy laid a hand across her forehead and began to pace. “I’m worried about Toby.”

“Me too,” Paige said. “He’s been through…an unimaginable amount of…” She threw her hands up. “I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Me either,” Happy said. “I wanna…help him. I want to help, but I’m not sure how. I’ve tried some things. Some don’t work, and others just seem to make him mad.”

“I’m not sure what to do either, Happy,” Paige said. “I’m going by trial and error and getting mixed results, too.”

“I think the, um…relationship issues we’re having are complicating things further.”

Paige pulled a face of exhaustion. “Right.”

Happy pulled a long breath in through her nose, forcing down any rebuke. “I want to help him, Paige. But it’s all…all of it’s emotional. Keeping my distance seems to make him want to talk, but then when I try to talk to him about the kidnapping, he minimizes everything. When I switch tactics and try to talk about the stuff between us, he doesn’t want to talk at all anymore. So now I don’t know what to do. It’s his area of expertise. But you’re also…you’re really good with the emotional stuff, too, so I thought maybe, you know, you’d have some thoughts.”

Paige blew her hair out of her face, rubbing her palms against her jeans. “Happy…I’m sorry, I don’t know that I can offer you any advice.”

Happy cocked her head. “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, this is a pretty unique situation,” Paige forced a smile.

“And for another thing?”

“And for another thing,” Paige nodded, realizing her language had given her away. “Sometimes, when someone else is hurting, no matter how badly we want to help, sometimes…well, sometimes all we have the power to do is make it worse.” She tilted her head to the side. “Because sometimes, and I don’t say this to hurt you, Happy, but sometimes we’re part of the problem.”

Before Happy could find words to respond, Toby opened the door to the garage. “Project manager,” he said as he approached the car.

“Yeah?” And Happy couldn’t help but hear the softening in Paige’s tone, see the warm eyes she turned his way, the tiny smile. Was Toby being coddled or was she being given the cold shoulder?

Toby scooped the bags off the trunk and set them in Paige’s arms. “Beat it, would ya?”

Paige offered Happy an apologetic look, and took one step away before turning her eyes back toward Toby. “Come eat soon,” she said. Toby didn't meet her eyes, just waved her away like a fly that was pestering him.

Toby pushed himself up onto the trunk of the car, groaning when his neck muscles protested. “What was that about?”

“None of your business, Nosy.”

One side of his mouth curled up. “It was about me. You’re not cryptic.”

“You are,” Happy leaned against the side of the Malibu, looking away from him.

“I know,” he sighed, but didn’t offer anything further.

“I know that you’re pissed at me; I don’t know why,” Happy said.

“You _don’t know why_?” Toby leaned over the side of the car and into her line of vision.

“I know _the big_ why,” Happy placated. “But I thought…last night before the case…and this morning, things seemed to be getting so much —”

“It’s gonna take a lot more time than that, Happy,” Toby sighed. “We’re gonna have…good moments, we’re gonna have moments when we can work together, but _this_? This is not going to resolve itself in a weekend.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “This is not going to resolve _itself_ at all. If we want it fixed, we’re going to have to resolve it. All of it. If we can. I don’t begin to know how.”

“I don’t either, but I’m trying to help —”

“Yeah, don’t.” Toby said. “That’s what I came out here to tell you.” 

He’d said it so quietly that Happy questioned whether she’d misheard him. “What? I said I’d do whatever it takes —”

“I appreciate that, and like I said, when I know what to tell you, I will,” Toby said. “But for now, I think you’ve done…” a humorless laugh rose from his throat, “...plenty. For God’s sake, I need some space to breathe on this thing. Some space to think.”

“Hang on, this time yesterday all you wanted to do was talk, and this morning you wanted not to overwork your brain.” Happy rubbed one of her temples. “I’m trying to do what you want, but I’m so confused, Doc.”

Toby flinched like he’d been hit. “God, I’m starting to hate that nickname,” he mumbled as he scrambled off the car.

Happy closed her eyes. _That_ one hurt. “Everybody calls you that.”

“Everybody calls me that,” he echoed. “You, when you want to communicate something tender. Cabe, when he wants to communicate feelings of friendship and comraderie. Collins, when I came to in that warehouse after he’d clocked me from behind…when he was standing over me telling you on the phone how he’d made that acid…how he was gonna make sure you watched…how I had that ri-ring…”

By the time Happy laid her hand on his forearm, he was shaking. He startled when she touched him, eyes wide and fearful.

Happy pulled her hands to her mouth in fists. “What do I do?” she whispered. “What do I…” she turned her palms out and took a tentative step forward. “Okay, Do— T-Toby? Toby, I…Toby, you’re OK, alright?” Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. “You’re OK, you’re at the garage, and you’re fine. Everything’s OK.”

Toby blinked, took a breath, then two, and finally swiped at his nose with the back of his jacket sleeve. “No, it’s not,” he croaked, then shook his head. “Dammit. That son of a bitch.” He walked toward the garage door, briefly laying a hand on her shoulder as he passed. 

“Toby, shouldn’t we tal—”

“I know that you want to talk about that,” Toby turned a palm toward her, even as he refused to meet her eyes. “And I know that it scared you. It was momentary. I’m good. Thank you for…thank you.” He laid his hand on the door handle. “Some space, OK? Please, Happy.”

Happy folded her lips between her teeth and nodded.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, seeming relieved, then pulled the door open. “Come have some lunch, OK?”

“One second,” she said, and he disappeared behind the door with a nod.

Happy propped her elbows on Paige’s car and buried her face in her hands. Toby was right about one thing. Nothing was OK. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, hoping to tamp down the pounding in her head, the part of her brain that was screaming that Toby wanting space was the beginning of the end. The part that was screaming even louder that he wasn’t OK, but she didn’t know how to reach him, just like when Collins had taken him.

She was jarred from her train of thought by the sound of an engine in the alley. An unfamiliar sedan pulled to a stop and a man in a suit stepped out. “Afternoon,” he called, and Happy rounded Paige’s car. “You know where a place called ‘Scorpion’ is?”

“Who’s asking?”

The man pulled a shield from his coat pocket. “Detective Linden, LAPD.”

Happy nodded. “You must be here for Agent Gallo. He’s right insi—”

“Actually,” the detective said as he put his shield away. “I’m looking for Tobias Curtis.”


	8. Lay Your Weary Body Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, summoning all your strength to do the right thing doesn't make you feel any better.

**Chapter 8: Lay Your Weary Body Down**

**everything that once was right is wrong. every little ray of hope is gone. when you feel a bit more lost than you feel found, lay your weary body down. - gigolo aunts, ‘lay your weary body down’**

* * *

The group crowded by the window, straining to hear the conversation Cabe and Tim were having with the detective in the alley.

“It’s gotta be for a case,” Walter said.

“He asked for Toby,” Happy shook her head. “Something else is up.” 

“If he asked for Toby, why did you give him Cabe?” Sylvester fidgeted.

“Because I didn’t know _why_ he was asking for Toby,” Happy said. “You don’t?” She looked at Toby over her shoulder.

Toby shook his head, clearly concerned. “Looks like we’re about to find out,” he said as Tim returned to the garage.

“It’s fine,” Tim said when he opened the door. “Come meet the guy.”

Toby raised his eyebrows, but followed.

“Ralph,” Walter whispered. “Go grab the parabolic mic.”

“Do me a favor,” Cabe was saying to Linden in the alley. “Go easy. The man’s got a significant head injury, and he’s still pretty shell-shocked.”

“I’m not insensitive to that, Agent Gallo,” Linden said. “But time’s becoming an issue here. If he’s at all up to it, I need him to do this.”

Toby and Tim approached Cabe and Linden as Ralph returned to the group with the microphone. “Thanks, buddy,” Happy took it from him and she and Walter had it trained on the alley in seconds.

“This is Bob Linden, detective with the LAPD,” Tim said. 

Toby extended his hand. “Dr. Tobias M. Curtis.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Linden said. “I’m sorry about the circumstances.”

Toby’s eyes jumped to Cabe, then back to Linden. “What circumstances are those?”

“Toby, the LAPD is taking the lead on the investigation into the Collins case,” Cabe said. 

Toby’s already tentative poker face slipped. “Why?”

“Because of how it’s likely to be prosecuted,” Tim said. “We think the kidnapping and related crimes will most likely be tried in district court.”

“I thought you two...Homeland got him...made the arrest,” Toby said.

“In conjunction with the FBI,” Cabe said. “But the incident occurred when you were off duty, and you’re not a sworn agent. Your connection to Collins is not through a Homeland case. The FBI and Homeland are working in close cooperation with the LAPD, but they’re the lead.”

  
“In other words,” Tim said. “We don’t anticipate that the circumstances of what happened with Collins are going to rise to the level of a federal case. LAPD is the most familiar with the DA’s office and state law anyway.”

Toby lowered his eyes. “What does that mean a far as how much time he’ll face?”

In the garage, Happy and Walter exchanged a look.

“I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess until we have a list of charges and know what the DA intends to pursue,” Linden said.

“Plenty, kid,” Cabe laid a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going away for a long time. Maybe forever.” Toby raised his eyes to Cabe’s.

“He’s in deep, that’s for sure,” Linden said.

“Okay,” Toby took a deep breath and let it out. “Thanks for stopping by.” He took a step back.

“I’m not just stopping by, Dr. Curtis,” Linden said. “We’re going to need to take your full statement.”

“Oh, man,” Happy muttered.

Toby went stock still. “Really.” It was not a question.

“You’re the key witness, Toby,” Tim said. “If any of the more serious charges against Collins are to stick, they need your statement.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible,” Linden said. “He’s due to be arraigned tomorrow, it would be helpful to have your statement by then.”

“He’s not ready for that,” Paige whispered to the group gathered by the window. “Not this soon.”

“ _But_ the arraignment can be delayed,” Cabe said. “We’ll do this when you’re ready, kid, not before.”

“It can be delayed,” Linden said, “and of course, I understand you were injured in the incident and you’re still recovering, but as soon as you’re up to it…the less time that passes before your statement, the less room there is for the defense to poke holes in it later.”

Toby’s eyebrows shot skyward, and he quickly squared his shoulders. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Happy and Paige met and held each other’s gaze.

“Toby…we’re gonna talk about that,” Cabe said.

“Fine,” Toby said, then looked back at Linden. “As soon as I can.”

Linden flipped a business card into his hand. “Just call my mobile when you’re ready.”

Toby turned to head back into the garage, and the group scrambled to stash the parabolic mic and scatter.

Linden pulled away, and Cabe and Tim were hot on Toby’s heels. “Kid,” Cabe said as he chased Toby through the door. “Roof. Now.”

* * *

 

“I’m doing this, Cabe.”

“Sure, you are. But it’s hours on end. It’s exhausting, mentally and physically. Wait a few days, when you’re rested, when you’ve been cleared of this head injury, when you’re feeling up to it.”

“And if that delay gives the defense some kind of loophole to get him off?”

“He will never see the light of day again,” Cabe ground out, and Toby threw his hands in the air and began to pace. “Kid,” Cabe stepped into Toby’s path and put his hands on Toby’s shoulders. “That bastard will never be free again. He’s never going to hurt you, hurt anybody, again. Worst-case scenario, he’s locked up in a hospital, but I think he’s going to prison. For a long time. Waiting another few days isn’t going to change that.”

“He was locked up in a hospital Thursday, Cabe, and apparently that was _voluntary_! My God, where is he now, L.A. County Jail?”

“Yes, but we’re working that jointly with LAPD. He’s in solitary under the watchful guard of two federal agents,” Cabe said. “He’s going nowhere.”

That brought Toby up short. “Thank you.”

Cabe nodded. “We take care of our own.”

That elicited a genuine smile, and Toby placed a hand on his chest. “Be still my heart.”

Cabe rolled his eyes. “Listen, you’re still on the mend, kiddo. Just give it another day or two. I’m more worried about you than I am about him, Doc.”

Toby tried to hide his shudder, but Cabe saw. “What?”

Toby sighed as he walked to the ledge and looked out at the city. “It seems, thanks to his overuse of that nickname during the thing, that I am developing an aversion to it. A psychological parting gift, along with with all the physical ones.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “God, he even talked about parting gifts, didn’t he?”

“Shit,” Cabe muttered as the memory came back to him, and leaned against the ledge next to Toby. “He did. Right after he faked the…”

“Electrocution.”

Cabe shut his eyes. “I was a Marine, and I’ve been a cop my whole career. That…what we _thought_ anyway, that was one of the worst things I’ve ever…”

“You should try it when you’re the guy tied to the metal chair,” Toby said. “Up until the moment he closed that circuit I thought it was real.” He breathed out. “Cabe, do you know what Happy says instead of ‘I love you’? She calls me Doc. She’s got some deep-seated pain connected to the words, probably because of her father’s abandonment or her time in foster care, but I’ve never minded, because I can hear it every time she says that name. Even since Friday night, everything that’s happened between us, when she calls me that, I know that’s what she’s trying to say, whether or not I want to hear it right now. But she said it earlier, in the alley, and I nearly crawled out of my own skin.”

Toby shook his head slowly, tendons in the side of his face bulging as he clenched his jaw. “He has taken things that do not belong to him. He dragged me right out of my life, ruined the proposal I'd been planning for weeks. We nearly lost Walter to his lunacy years ago. As… _furious_ as I am at her for not telling me about what happened between them, Happy has been suffering for years. Because of him. And that nickname was so much more than a nickname for Happy. It was her way of connecting to me, and now, I can’t tolerate it. In time, I can rewire that mentally, just like this head wound will heal, but…no, no hospital for him. He hurt me, he hurt Happy — God, he hurt Happy so much. He hurt Walter, and Sly, nearly killed God knows how many when he took that nuclear plant to the brink two years ago. He’ll get out of a hospital, eventually. He’s brilliant, and he'll have nothing but time. I won't spend my life looking over my shoulder for him. I don't want it for me, for Happy, for any of us. No hospital. That son of a bitch is going to prison. So, I know I said I was fine yesterday, and that kinda got sideways. I get why you've gone all protective on me. But even if I have to sneak out of here when you’re not looking, I’m giving that statement. Today.”

Cabe nodded. “He will pay.”

“He. Will. Pay.”

“Okay, Toby,” Cabe said. “Good enough.”

Toby nodded. “Good. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Listen, kid,” Cabe said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I just want you to know, that when I call you Doc, that’s not code for ‘I love you.’ That’s code for ‘you’re a jackass.’”

“That’s beautiful, Cabe.”

* * *

“Toby, I think this is too soon,” Paige stood on the opposite side of his desk, pleading with him as he hung up his call with Linden.

“I'm not gonna wait, and risk some defense attorney using that to his advantage.”

“Kid,” Cabe interrupted Paige's rebuttal. “Lay off him. Sometimes a man needs to stand up.”

“What is that, the opening line of the Machismo Manifesto?” Paige asked. “Happy, back me up here.”

Happy looked up at Paige from her spot perched on the cafeteria table, then over at Toby. “Is it dangerous? For you, right now?”

“No. It…” he moved his hands opposite each other, like a balance in motion, “…might contribute to a headache, will probably be tiring, but that’s likely even without the concussion.”

Happy nodded, watching the toe of her boot as her leg swung idly from the table.

“Listen, this is not something that's up for a group vote," he looked pointedly at Paige. "But if you buttinskis must know, psychologically, this kind of thing can actually be therapeutic. It can stave off feelings of powerlessness, make the individual feel like they’ve done something to rectify the situation, foster a different, less emotional perspective on the events that occurred, jump-start the process of moving on—”

“I think you should do it,” Happy said.

Toby’s eyes went wide. “Yeah?”

Happy shrugged. “It’s important to you. And if it will help you…whatever you think is gonna help you, Toby, you should do it. Just do what you need to do. We’ll back you up.” She moved her eyes to Paige’s. “All of us.”

Walter nodded. “All of us.”

Toby straightened. “OK then. I’ll be back.”

“Do you want us to go with, Toby?” Sylvester asked.

“Nah, I wanna do this by myself. Thanks, Pal.” Sylvester nodded.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Cabe said, scooping up his keys and heading for the door. “You’re not supposed to drive for the next few days anyway.”

“Be right there.” Toby looped his bag over his shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered as he passed her. “Thank you.”

She gave him a toothless smile. “Sure. Toby…if you do start feeling bad when you're there —”

“At the first sign of trouble, I’ll end the interview and head straight back to the ER,” Toby said. “You’ve earned that much. But it’s not gonna happen. Don’t fret the whole time I’m gone, OK?” He followed Cabe out.

Before Happy knew it, her feet were carrying her back out to the alley of their own volition. “Hey,” she called. Toby threw his bag in Cabe’s front seat and walked back to her. “You’re sure you don’t want some company? Someone less annoying than Sly?”

He grinned at her. “It’s cute that you think you’re less annoying than Sly. No, I need to do this on my own. I want to be completely focused. I don’t want to leave anything out that could help nail him.”

“You kick his ass, Toby. Show him he’s not the only one with total recall.”

“You got it,” he said, a determined set to his jaw. He took a step back, then closed the distance between them again. “Happy, I know what happened earlier out here, but screw that. Don’t ever, ever stop calling me Doc, okay?”

“If it’s bothering you, then just for right now —”

“Then it’s going to bother me, for right now. But I’ll get over it. Don’t stop. You know why?”

Happy shook her head.

“Because I love you, too, Happy Quinn. Bastard’s not taking those away from me. They’re too important to me.”

“Even…after—”

“God, Happy, especially after Friday night,” Toby said. “Yes, I need some space to get my head around what’s happened between us, and yes, we’re a hot mess at the moment. Remember, I'm madly in love with you, I'm just pissed as hell at you right now. So screw my reaction earlier. I'll get past it. Keep calling me that.” He shrugged. "When you want to."

Happy nodded. “Okay.”

He backed away. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

“I will always be here when you get back,” Happy said, unsure why she'd chosen that qualifier, except that she had the urge to be comforting. She winked at him. “Doc.”

He smiled, bigger than he had since the kidnapping, and for some reason, it made her want to cry. “Exposure therapy,” he called, spreading his arms as he walked backward toward Cabe’s Tahoe. “This statement’s the same thing, too. Exposure therapy works every time. Trust the shrink.”

He winked back at her, then turned and jogged the rest of the way to the car.

* * *

_Monday Afternoon: One Day Later_

“I’ve read the first draft of your statement,” Dr. Bissell said. “It's so lengthy I wasn’t sure I’d get through it before our appointment. For the most part, it reads like a transcript of your experience.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” Toby said. “You never know what they might be able to use.” 

“The level of detail is extraordinary,” Bissell said, flipping through the pages of the statement. “Your recall really is exceptional, especially when you consider the strain you were under.”

“I couldn't remember everything,” Toby said. “I was fuzzy on the details at several points throughout the thing.”

“I saw that,” Bissell said. “The one right after you woke up in the warehouse, where you remember talking to him but don't remember most of what was said, that could be the effects of the initial panic combined with the head injury. But these others…” she looked up at Toby. “They may well surface, in time. You'll want to prepare yourself for that.”

“You think it’s psychogenic, that I walled them off.”

“You weren't drugged, there was no swelling in the brain, your recall for most of the incident is crystal clear,” Bissell said. “I think it's likely the cause of these hazy spots in your memory is psychogenic, yes.”

“I also had a head injury. Retrograde amnesia would be expected—”

“Did you notice how defined the edges of the confusion are? It's all hard stops and starts. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to tell that, but thanks to the level of detail you were able to provide, it’s obvious. It’s like your memory turned off one moment, then turned back on later. They’re probably moments when—”

“Shit got real?” Toby arched an eyebrow. “Seems like I remember plenty of ‘real’ already. I don’t know, maybe it was just exhaustion. I got _so_ sick of the sound of his voice.”

“You know how the brain works. The information is there, you just can’t access it right now, whatever the reason. If these memories surface, and they may not, you’ll just have to take them as they come. In some cases, it may take a trigger you won't experience for months or years.”

“I know the drill.”

“So, were you proud of yourself?”

“For what?”

She waved the document at him. “This is one hell of a statement.”

Toby raised his eyebrows, his stare becoming blank. “I'm glad they've got it. I'm glad I was able to be so detailed.”

“But you thought you'd feel the weight of the world off your shoulders, and if anything —”

“I just felt heavier,” Toby said. 

* * *

 

_Sunday Afternoon: One Day Earlier_

“Kid?” Toby heard Cabe's voice from a distance, but he was lost in thought, staring at the scarred, dented old conference table in front of him. “Toby.”

A hand came down on his forearm, and that jarred him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Cabe sitting across the table. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Cabe cocked his head. “You OK?” 

“Yeah,” Toby rubbed at an eye. “The…detective,” he waved over his shoulder towards the door of the interview room, “said I might want to take a minute.”

“You took several,”  Cabe said. “How did it go?”

“Fine, I think,” Toby said. “Told him everything I could remember. I think it'll be enough. I hope.”

“It will be, Toby,” Cabe patted his forearm. “Linden said he's gonna be here typing all night.”

“Normals,” Toby gave Cabe a lopsided grin as he slouched in the chair. “No appreciation for the genius mind.”

“How's that hard head of yours?”

“Fine actually,” Toby buried his face in his hands and exhaled long. “I'm just beat.”

“Then let's get outta here.”

* * *

“You’re sure you don’t want me to pick you up out front?” Cabe asked as they made their way into the LAPD headquarters’ underground parking garage.

“Stop hovering,” Toby said distractedly, trailing behind. “Hey, Cabe? What would the charges be?”

“It’s up to the DA,” Cabe said, still walking. “But the list will be as long as your arm. Simple assault for the guard he drugged at the hospital to slip out. Destruction of property at the hospital, grand larceny, grand theft auto, a couple counts of trespassing. Then we get to you. An additional count of simple assault for the blow to the head in the parking deck, wrongful imprisonment, aggravated assault, felonious communicating of threats, and attempted murder, of course. Maybe more. The real trick,” Cabe said, raising a finger in the air, “is whether he’s found competent to stand trial, but we’ll cross that bridge when we—”

He looked over his shoulder to see Toby had stopped several paces behind him, dazed, one hand braced against the wall. Cabe closed the distance between them.

  
“Toby?”

“He was gonna kill me,” Toby squeaked.

Cabe tucked his chin down. “Yeah.”

“Mark…Mark was actually gonna kill me. I mean, he actually _tried_.”

“Yeah.”

“Horribly. He wasn’t gonna shoot me or stab me, not that those are the easiest ways to go anyway, but…he was actually going to let that acid burn through my face until I suffocated, or brain function ceased.”

Cabe laid a hand on Toby’s arm. “Kid…”

“Since we started working with Homeland I’ve been close to death more times than I can count. I’ve had guns shoved in my face, but never…never some guy who used to work at the next desk. Who knows how I take my coffee. I…I pissed him off so badly in that hearing room, that Mark actually tried to kill me. _Murder_ me. Attempted. Murder.”

Cabe gripped his arm a little tighter. “You don’t have to tell me about it, kid, I’m there twice a week at least.” Toby raised his eyes, confused at first, then rolled them in mock disgust at the joke. “C’mere,” Cabe said, and pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You’re such a damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead personality, I think this is just now catching up with you.”

He pulled away, clapping Toby gently on the side of the head. “You all outsmarted him, Toby, and he failed. Because of Walter, and Happy, and Sly. You did several things when you were one-on-one with him that saved your own life. You helped get yourself out of it, Toby, and I’m so damn proud of the way you handled yourself.”

Toby squinted at him. “You watched my statement.”

“Why the hell do you think I came along? You’re kinda scaring the hell out of me, kid.”

Toby dropped his eyes and sniffed. “Sly says you listen to Conway Twitty. I’ve had a lot on my plate the past few days, but you _do_ realize that as soon as I can get to it, I will be ridiculing you for that.”

Cabe tamped down his disappointment at Toby’s sidestep. “I’m counting on it,” he forced a smile. “You need to get some shut-eye, kid. C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Toby mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he followed Cabe to the car. “But the garage is the only place I’m going to get any sleep. She promised she’d be there.”

* * *

 

It was nearly dusk by the time Toby and Cabe came through the door, and the occupants of the garage descended on them at once. 

“Whoa, everybody back off,” Cabe stepped in front of Toby. “The doc did a hell of a job. Collins is going to have to answer for a hell of a lot.”

Toby decided to stop the questions before they could begin. “And Toby is going to take a nap,” he said loudly over the first hints of chatter. “So thanks again, Mother Hens. See you tomorrow.”

The group began to call their goodbyes and gather their things and Toby took the opportunity to slip further into the room. “Hey,” he leaned close to Happy’s ear, letting the back of his fingers brush hers. “Got a minute?”

She followed him into the Airstream. 

“Are you feeling OK?”

“Yeah, fine,” he groaned, plopping onto the bed and peeling off his jacket. He grinned up at her. “Told ya.”

She gave him a tiny smile. “I’m glad you were right.”

“Ugh, I need some sleep,” he propped his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples. “Happy, can I ask you a favor?”

“You need a ride home?”

Toby shook his head. “Can a guy who describes himself as being pissed as hell at you and needing room to breathe and clear his head…possibly be the most selfish jerk on Earth and…can we maybe just press pause on our issues for a minute and… remember when you said what you wanted to do after the warehouse was just crawl under the covers and hide out from the world a little while?”

Happy’s eyebrows raised and she nodded.

Toby quirked a corner of his mouth at her. “You wanna maybe…tell me more about that plan?” He closed his eyes and shook his head, embarrassed. “That sounded really…” he ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not asking you to…I just really need to slow my brain down long enough to get some sleep. You can always do that for me.”

Happy blinked and slid her jacket off. “Funny,” she said, “what you’re _not_ asking me to do always seems to put you _straight_ to sleep.” She sat down on the mattress beside him and pulled her boots off.

Toby followed suit with his own shoes. “Don’t heckle me now,” he mumbled, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thanks.”

By unspoken agreement, they maneuvered until Happy was on her back on the mattress, Toby curled tightly against her side, his head on her shoulder.

“OK for your neck?” she said softly.

Toby nodded. 

“How’s your head?”

“It’s good,” he mumbled. “I’m fine, Hap. I just need to turn my brain off for a little while.”

She ran her fingers into his hair. “That why you’re so quiet?”

“Talked out for today,” he mumbled. “You talk.”

“Okay,” she said, eyes wandering the Airstream as she searched for a topic. “So I take it your statement went well?”

He hummed, brow furrowing slightly. “Talk about something else. Talk about…your shut-the-world out plan.”

Happy exhaled. 

“Well…my plan started with…leaving the rest of those jokers behind and heading home.”

“I like it already,” he drawled.

“I thought we’d take a long shower.”

“Ohhh, this is that kind of story,” he grinned, letting his eyes slip closed.

Happy pinched his side gently. “Only if you want it to be. But then, later, I thought we’d spend the weekend doing…well, this,” she she moved her fingers in his hair and he hummed. “And maybe, by Sunday, if you wanted, we could wander outside for brunch at that place you like. The one with the wait so long I have to eat breakfast before we go eat brunch.”

“God, you really must have missed me,” he teased.

“I did,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He burrowed deeper against her, and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep. “God, I’m sorry, Happy,” he croaked.

“What the hell are you sorry for?”

“I think…maybe I caused it. I went in that hearing room Thursday and—”

“Stop it, Doc,” she whispered.

“I went in there and I didn’t just say I thought he shouldn’t be released. I humiliated him. I jumped up and down on him…with unbridled glee. What the hell did I _think_ was gonna happen?”

“So you think you deserved…”

“…not deserved. But should have anticipated. I…should have been able to avoid this whole thing.”

“You want to talk about avoiding this whole thing?” Happy shifted so she was eye-to-eye with him. “You left here that night to go pick up an engagement ring for me because I hadn’t told you…”

Toby furrowed his brow. “I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me about the marriage, but the rest of it is not your fault.”

“You wouldn’t have even been there, Toby! You would have been here, with us.”

“So he would have gotten me the next time I left here. Which would have been later that night. My God, probably with you. There’s a horrifying thought, you and me both in that situation.”

“If we’d been together, he might have gotten the jump on one of us, but not both of us,” Happy said.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” Toby sighed.

“As opposed to what you’re doing?” Happy asked.

They both fell silent.

“I just need a minute, I think,” Toby said, voice steadier. “I just need some sleep, and…I’ll probably feel fine in the morning.”

“You don’t feel fine now?”

“I do, it’s just…Cabe told me this afternoon I was scaring the hell out of him. And Paige was all…smother-y. I gave that statement today, that should do a lot to jump-start the…I’ll start fresh in the morning.”

Happy pulled him closer. 

“And then, we’ll work on this guilt complex you’ve developed.”

“Don’t shrink me,” she whispered. “Toby, go to sleep.”

“Fresh start, first thing,” he mumbled. 

“OK,” she placated. “Get some sleep, Doc.”

“You, too,” he sighed. “You look tired.”

“Then stop keeping me up, dummy,” Happy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Go to sleep.”

“Thanks, Hap,” he whispered.

“Anytime, Doc.”


	9. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday morning brings confrontations between various members of the team.

**Chapter 9: Demons**

**‘don’t get too close, it’s dark inside where my demons hide.’ - imagine dragons, ‘demons’**

* * *

Toby opened his eyes to see Happy staring drowsily at him. 

“You will note,” she said, “that I am fully awake, and ahead of you.”

“I didn’t say you never woke up first, I said you hate waking up, creepy sleep-stalker,” he smiled softly.

She rolled her eyes. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. Thanks, Happy.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

“Did you sleep? You still look tired.”

“Charmer,” she mumbled, letting her eyes slipped closed again. “I slept. But this mattress sucks.”

“I was so whipped I didn’t notice.” Toby ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just after 7.”

“Felt like longer than a couple hours,” he said.

Happy shot him a look as she stretched. “7 _a.m._ , bright boy.”

Toby’s eyes went wide. “It. Is. Not.”

Happy held up her watch. “What does that say?”

“We slept almost _14_ _hours_?”

Happy shrugged. “Guess we needed it.”

“I guess so,” he mumbled. “Are you _sure_?”

Happy scooted closer, laying her head on his pillow and holding her left wrist above them. “Let me show you how this works, since they apparently didn’t teach you how to tell time at Harvard. When the little hand is on the 7 and the big hand is on the 1, that means—”

“Okay, so you’re sure. Smart ass.”

She rolled her head to the side to smile at him, but it faded quickly. “Can I tell you something?”

He cast his eyes her way. “Hmm?”

“In Happy’s shut-out-the-world-for-the-weekend plan,” she rolled onto her shoulder and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, “when it was time to head back to work,” another kiss, just behind his ear, the spot that always drove him crazy, “I thought we could close out the weekend by—”

“Happy,” he breathed a split second before his lips fused with hers. He rolled onto his shoulder and pulled her to him with a hand on the side of her neck. She whimpered with relief, wrapping one leg around both of his and pulling his torso closer with a hand to his ribs. 

The intensity skyrocketed then, and Toby rolled them onto Happy’s back, settling over her, supporting himself on his elbows. Amid a flurry of open-mouthed kisses and wandering hands, Happy found the hem of his t-shirt, and tried to work it over his head. 

“Wait,” he said against her lips, then pressed a gentle kiss to them once more before pulling back, resting his forehead against hers. “Wait. We should…we _shouldn’t_ …this is…” he breathed heavily, eyes closed. “This is only going to further cloud the issue, and it’s already complicated enough.” He opened his eyes and rubbed a thumb along her jawline. “I mean, right? God, convince me I’m wrong.”

“Toby,” Happy put her hands on either side of his head and ran her fingers into his hair. “Everything else is what’s complicated. This? This is the simplest thing in the world, Doc. I think we could both do with some 'simple' right now.”

Toby’s face split into a goofy grin. “Gee, you’re swell.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, then began working his way down her neck. “I’ve got a feeling we’re not going to feel that way in an hour, but right now, I don’t care.”

“An hour?” Happy smiled, suppressing a moan before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “How ambitious.”

He pushed himself up onto his forearms and made eye contact. “Let’s just say I’ve missed you.”

“You have no idea,” she panted as he resumed his ministrations. “I’m no Harvard-trained shrink, but I think there’s an argument to be made that this could help,” she pulled him back to her for another kiss. “I mean, maybe we’re _too_ in our heads on this?” She felt his neck muscles jerk suddenly under her fingertips. “Whoa, what was that?”

“Spasm,” he groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Neck sprain. It’s OK.” He bent his head to hers again.

“I have another bright idea,” she whispered against his lips, and began to roll them onto Toby’s back, intent on relieving the pressure on his neck.

The end result was that they rolled off the side of the Airstream’s tiny mattress and hit the floor with a hollow _boom_.

“Ohhh…” Toby groaned. “If that was your idea, it sucked.”

“Geez, Doc,” she pulled her knees under her, “did you hit your head again?”

“No,” he gasped. “But my scapulae have had better moments. Those are the shoulderblades.”

“I know this, Professor.”

The door to the Airstream opened and Walter entered cautiously with a lamp raised over his shoulder. “Oh, it’s just Toby and Happy,” he called into the garage.

“What the hell was the noise?” Paige appeared in the doorway’s line of sight.

“From the look of things, it’s a poorly coordinated sexual encounter.”

“ _You’re_ a poorly coordinated sexual encounter!” Toby screeched.

Happy straightened up and looked over her shoulder at Walter. “Get out,” she growled.

“Hey, what the hell were you gonna do with the lamp?” Toby propped himself up on his elbows.

“For all I knew, we had an intruder!”

“And you thought said intruder might like a little mood lighting?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; this lamp doesn’t work.”

“You are a _hoarder_ ,” Toby accused. 

“Hey,” Happy said, placing a hand on his chest, “Let’s try this again. Walt,” she turned her glare on him. “Get _the hell_ out.”

Walter’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “For the record, I’m not really comfortable with this,” he waved a hand toward them, “happening on the grounds.”

“ _Walter_ —”

“I’m out!” he stumbled down the steps as quickly as his feet would carry him.

“Is it just me, or did that kill the mood?” Toby muttered from the floor.

Happy rolled her eyes. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Silver lining: We weren’t naked yet.”

“Oh, God,” Happy clapped her hand over her mouth. “You’re right. It could’ve been worse.”

Toby reached up and traced a finger across her cheek. “It was probably…not the greatest idea. I mean, great, but…not. You know?”

“I know,” Happy said. “You’re probably right.”

“Can we put a pin in it?”

Happy gave him a weak grin, and tried to quell the uneasy feeling in her stomach. “I’ll hold you to it.”

* * *

“Walter, this is not the way I want to start the day, OK?”

“If you can’t tell me what your response is to my statement then perhaps you can tell me _w_ _hen_ I can expect some kind of followup,” Walter hovered over Paige’s shoulder as she busied herself in the kitchen.

“Sorry,” she turned around, wide-eyed. “I don’t have a built-in timer.”

“Are you withholding an answer because of the perceived inappropriateness of my coming to Tahoe to talk to you about this?”

“ _Perceived_ inappropriateness?” she mocked. “ _Perceived_?”

“You indicated that you found it inappropriate, but I disagree. When one realizes that one is in love, one should assert that without delay.”

“Absolutely,” Paige said, slamming the parts of the coffee pot much harder than necessary. “One should take one’s sweet time, hell, two years if one needs it, getting one’s _head_ out of one’s ass, but once one has one’s big realization, one should act like a crazy stalker because a delay of another few days would be unthinkable.”

“You and Tim, that was unthinkable!”

“ _You_ told me to go with him!” 

“ _That_ was before I realized!”

“Dimwit, she still doesn’t want to talk to you,” Toby said as he made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Why don’t you quit before you’re wearing that coffee instead of drinking it?” 

“First smart thing I’ve heard this morning,” Paige said with a defiant jut of her chin.

“Also,” Toby dropped his voice lower, “you may be whisper-screaming, but the kid is spying on you, and you know he’s getting every word.”

Paige spun to see Ralph not-so-subtly staring from her desk. “Ralph, _don’t_ snoop. Get your stuff; we’re headed to school.”  She departed with a quick hand to Toby’s elbow and not so much as a word to Walter.

“I swear to God, I think you require adult supervision,” Toby said when she’d gone. 

“You said she’d cool off with time.”

“Yeah,” Toby groaned, pushing himself to the counter. “She’s still doing that. Let it ride, for God’s sake, Walter.”

“Hmm,” Walter groused into his mug. “Hey,” he said when Happy began moving things around at her workbench, “so are you two—”

“We don’t know,” Toby said. “All in all it was probably a good thing you walked in on that.”

“So are you feeling…you seemed kinda spent when you got back yesterday.”

Toby raised his eyebrows, surprised Walter had noticed. “It was just a _lot_ of talking. And recall. I can’t believe we slept that long, it was just supposed to be a catnap, but, like Happy said, I guess we needed it.”

“How’s your head?”

“Pretty good,” Toby said. “I’ll follow up on the concussion at the end of the week and that will be the end of light duty. Muscle soreness should start to dissipate in the next day or two. Neck’s gonna suck for a couple weeks, but it’ll heal.”

“How did that happen, anyway?”

Toby tipped his head back against the cabinet. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly let him immobilize my head for that acid voluntarily.” He shuddered. “Your little friend’s a real son of a bitch, Walter.”

“Not my friend,” Walter said. “Mark Collins is _not_ my friend. I used to think so, but…that was before I understood…” he placed his hands flat on the counter. “You told me, years ago, that he had mental health issues, and I ignored you because the two of you were constantly locked into a pissing contest. I dismissed Sylvester’s pleas as a byproduct of his anxiety. Dismissed Happy’s frustration because she’d had to intervene one time when it was just the three of us, and I let myself get carried away. Even after I had him committed, I told myself…it developed into that. Mark lost himself, I thought. What a tragedy. But _now_ , now that we know what he was doing to Happy? Just months after he joined the company? After what he did to you this weekend?” Walter stood straight. “Mark Collins has hurt every friend I’ve ever had, so by definition he is _not_ my friend. Infantile as this may sound, he is my enemy. And he will be handled as such, from this point forward. I’m just so sorry…I mean I really do apologize…I let you guys down. I brought him in here, I exposed all of us to that threat. And I just…I deeply regret that decision.”

“You wanted to believe in him, Walter, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Toby said. “You wanted to believe in all of us. I’m supposed to be the behaviorist; I knew he was nuts, but I had no idea until I came to in that warehouse that he was…he fooled all of us, to some extent. Now, I am thrilled to hear that you don’t want to be a character witness for the man.” Walter barked a harsh laugh and clenched his jaw at the notion. “But short of that,” Toby laid a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t you let yourself off the hook?”

Walter grinned tightly around his clenched jaw. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

“You should,” Toby hopped off the counter. “Mind if I head home for an hour? Shower, fresh clothes?”

“Sure,” Walter said, as Cabe came through the door. “Actually,” Walter said, as he and Cabe exchanged a knowing look. “Can we talk to you first?”

* * *

 

“Where’s Sylvester?” Happy asked Paige, more to break their awkward silence than anything else.

“Tim picked him up this morning and they went straight to LAPD headquarters. It appears we’re all going to have to give our statements regarding Collins.”

Happy nodded. “I had a voicemail from that detective this morning. I was going to talk to Cabe about it.” She shrugged. “Not sure what we can tell him that Toby didn’t already. He was alone with that bastard for most of it.”

“I’d imagine they’ll use our statements to corroborate Toby’s story, make the case stronger, but you’re right, Toby really did all the heavy lifting yesterday.”

The sound of Toby, Cabe and Walter’s conversation upstairs ratcheted up a notch, causing Happy to look up at the loft for the third time.

“Do you know what that’s about?” she asked.

Paige shook her head. “Walter and I aren’t exactly long on conversation these days.”

“I noticed.”

“Toby seems a little more chipper this morning,” Paige offered, changing the subject. 

“He says he wants to start fresh, now that the statement’s behind him,” Happy sighed. 

“Well,” Paige slumped in her desk chair. “What do you do after you experience something like that? It’s a tall order, but I guess you’ve got to try to find some way put it all behind you.”

“Hopefully not _all_ of it,” Happy said, almost to herself.

Paige looked up. “I don’t know. It’s none of my business.”

Happy dropped her wrench to the table. “I understand why you’re pissed at Walter, what I don’t understand is why it seems like you’re pissed at me.”

“I’m not,” Paige said flatly. “It really _is_ none of my business.”

“Yesterday, when I asked you for advice on how to best be there for Toby you refused, and said that all I had the power to do was make it worse.”

“That’s not exactly what I—”

“But you’ve been handling him with kid gloves since the moment we got him back,” Happy crossed her arms. “I don’t understand that, why wouldn’t you want Toby and me to make it through this, for his sake if not for mine?”

“Because, Happy, I am not sure that you and Toby making it through this _is_ what’s best for him.”

Happy’s arms went limp by her sides. “I…see. Well, it’s,” she smiled, but there was an edge to it, “good to know I’ve got a friend, I guess.”

“Happy,” Paige stood and came around the desk. “I _am_ your friend. I care about you and you’re a good person, but I care about Toby, too. He’s a good person, too. And right now, my priority is seeing to it that Toby’s OK. I know you care about him, and I know you were worried sick when he was missing, but Happy, what happened Friday night…”

“I screwed up, okay?” Happy turned her palms out. “I screwed up royally, but I am going to make it right, somehow. I’m going to figure out a way to…I mean that’s why I asked you in the first place, I really want to make this right.”

“I hear that,” Paige said. “But I’m just…Happy, I wasn’t hiding the ball from you yesterday. I don’t know what you should do. I don’t know how it’s possible to make this right. I understand that you are not a malicious person, and I know you are in your own pain, but in this situation, my priority…I want Toby to be OK, to be safe. And not just from Collins. For the life of me, I just don’t know what you were thinking, keeping this from him.”

“I…was thinking that I didn’t want to lose him when he found out,” Happy said then pulled her hand across her forehead. “Surely there’s a joke to be made about that irony, but I can’t think of one.” She turned to walk away.

“For the record, Happy?”

Happy turned around.

“I hope you do find a way to make it right. I really do .”

Happy heaved a shaky sigh. “Me too.”

* * *

“Cabe, listen, I appreciate that you’re concerned, but this is a drastic overreaction,” Toby said.

“Kid, in the last three days I feel like we’ve all aged 10 years,” Cabe said. “I just think this is a sensible precaution. You’re gonna talk to somebody.”

Toby turned his palms out. “I screwed up on the after-care for the concussion, but since Saturday I’ve really been on the upswing—”

“You didn’t screw anything up, Toby,” Cabe said. “But I think you’re juggling a lot right now, and I think, understandably, you’re…kid, I’m asking you to get checked out, that’s all.”

“Oh, well if you’re _asking_ , then, no, thank you,” Toby said, drawing himself to his full height. 

Cabe crossed his arms, and cocked his head. “Okay, Toby,” he said, with steely resolve. “Then I won’t ask. As Homeland’s Scorpion liaison, I’m ordering a fit-for-duty evaluation before you’re restored to regular duty.”

Toby smiled, but it had a bitter edge. “Homeland’s contract is not with me, it’s with Scorpion, and Walter,” he pointed across the room, “makes staff decisions. I’m calling your bluff.”

“I wouldn’t, Toby,” Walter said.

Toby’s face became dark. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am the man who will not let my friend down again,” Walter said. “You will always be part of Scorpion, Toby, no matter what. But you need to pass this eval before I’ll restore you to full duty on Homeland cases.”

Toby clenched his jaw. “Neither one of you even _begins_ to be qualified to—”

“Then prove us wrong,” Cabe said.

“I could pass a fit-for-eval duty in my sleep,” Toby bit out. 

“Probably right,” Walter said. “Show us. 4 p.m. today.”

Toby pressed his lips into a thin line, turned on his heel and started down the stairs from the loft.

“You know we’re on your side, kiddo,” Cabe called. 

The only response was Toby’s heavy footsteps as he continued to descend the stairs.

* * *

_Monday Afternoon: Later That Day_

“Okay,” Dr. Bissell said, closing her notebook. “Those are all the questions I have.”

Toby blinked like he was coming out of a trance. “So…what’s gone wrong? What am I missing?”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Because I feel like hell warmed over.”

“Ah,” Bissell said. “Finally. I was beginning to think you’d keep this charade up the whole session.”

“Congratulations, you wore me down,” Toby made a face. “Seriously, we’re here, now, we may as well…” he put his hands to his temples. “What the hell is happening?”

“It’s not so much what’s happening, anymore, it’s what’s no longer happening,” Bissell said. “You’re coming out of shock. Somewhere around the time you gave your statement yesterday, you began to install what had happened with Collins. You’d been mentally wrestling with it for two days, but you couldn’t feel any blood going to it. But blood’s going to it now, and that’s why you’re feeling ill-at-ease in your own skin.”

Toby sat still, hand covering his mouth. “How the hell could I have missed that?”

“Because that is what psychological shock does, it makes you miss things,” Bissell said. “Plus, how can you be in shock when the big-deal Harvard psychiatrist isn’t traumatized by what happened? A little fear on the brink of death, a little lightheadedness after rescue, and then you were all good, remember?”

Toby blinked long, stunned mute.

“You know as well as I do, Toby, psychogenic shock can be useful, life-saving even, in situations like what you faced. You woke up in that warehouse and your adrenaline started pumping. You never had a chance to fight, or flee, and I think you probably knew deep down that if you allowed yourself to panic and freeze, you were setting yourself up for death. So your psyche, which was already in shock, latched onto a goal, something to live for.”

“Proposing to Happy.”

“It was already at the forefront of your mind and very important to you, for obvious reasons. You sunk your fingernails into that and held on for dear life, quite literally. Your determination to survive to ask Happy to marry you gave you a mental goal, helped you stay focused and stave off the worst of the panic. And it worked beautifully. Here you are. The problem is that you were so locked into damage control, that when the danger had passed, you didn’t want to let go. You knew, deep inside that psychiatrist’s brain of yours that if you let go, you’d start to feel bad, and weak. So your subconscious built this construct inside your head that if you got engaged to Happy that night, it would somehow—”

“—negate everything he’d done,” Toby said brokenly. “And then I could accept it.”

“Because he wouldn’t have won,” Bissell said. “So, your professional brain was shell-shocked just like the rest of you. You ignored and rationalized Happy’s attempts to delay the proposal because you were numb and fixated on realizing your goal. And when the proposal went nose-down, so did you. When you learned that Collins was also involved in the Happy situation? That was enough to send you into a tailspin that you’ve been in ever since. That numbness is why you screwed up the after-care for the concussion, which greatly contributed to your collapse on the case Saturday night. Now, I’d like to ask the psychiatrist a question, if I may.”

Toby raised his eyes to Dr. Bissell’s.

“What would you you normally do for a patient in psychogenic shock?”

“Um…” Toby heaved a breath. “Put the patient in a safe, supportive environment, with someone to watch out for them until it starts to wear off. Rest, hydration, food, restorative activities for a couple days. After that, cognitive-behavioral therapy to help the patient accept the reality of what happened, begin to heal, and…learn to live with it.”

“Remember when you refused medical treatment at the scene?”

“Ambulances and ER’s are invasive,” Toby said. “They force you to think about why you’re there. They make you feel weak, and powerless. That’s why I refused. I justified it, and justified it well, but I refused treatment for other reasons.”

“You actually had the right instinct by wanting to be with the team. With your friends,” Bissell said. “But no one there really knew _how_ to look out for you, Toby, especially not in the state of mind you were in, charging headlong into proposing to Happy. They tried, but they didn’t know how. You know why? _You’re_ the one who normally does that for them. In that group, emotionally, you’re the big shoulders.”

“They have…other gifts. Tremendous gifts.”

“Yes, they do, and they’re good friends to you,” Bissell said. “But you needed a support they didn’t know how to identify, much less provide. Thank God for Cabe Gallo. The man’s a Marine, and career LEO. He’s seen and likely experienced his share of trauma. He knew something was off and he caught up to you eventually. Was willing to let you get pissed off at him if that was what it took. But he got you in here, and that’s what you needed.”

Toby chewed on his lip. “But that’s not gonna be all I need.”

“You studiously ignored what happened in that warehouse, first in favor of proposing to Happy, and then in favor of sorting out your issues with Happy,” Bissell said. “You cannot neglect this, Toby. It is going to require your full attention, and now. There will be a whole host of second, third and fourth order effects, once your psyche has had time to cook them up. You will need to address them, work through them. Or, you know, I suppose you can just go the rest of your life without ever sitting in an armchair again.”

Toby rubbed at an eye. “I think, maybe, that's not as bad as you think it--”

“Oh, it is. But you can shake it. All of it,” Bissell said. “If you come at it full force. It’s just like that neck injury of yours, just like that concussion. It just takes time, and a proper course of treatment. In time, Toby, you will process this, and learn to live with it just fine, but it’s not going to be instantaneous result you expected of yourself.”

Toby nodded. “And uh…” he scrunched his face up, “the personal issues that I didn’t want to talk about under any circumstances whatsoever? Any thoughts on that?”

“In the end, setting aside the horror of Collins’s involvement and Happy’s suffering, what the whole issue boils down to for you is whether you can forgive Happy for keeping you in the dark and whether you can allow yourself to trust her again, when it’s become evident that on some level, for some reason—”

“She didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“There is no magic bullet for this, Toby,” Bissell said. “Be communicative with her. Don’t open yourself up again until you feel like you’re strong enough to do it. But my biggest and most stringent piece of…unofficial…advice on this? Give yourself some time. You are an impressive intellect, but I have to wonder how thinly you can spread yourself. I’m guessing Happy was a pretty big part of your support system, too?”

Toby nodded. “The biggest part of it.”

“Yeah,” Bissell pulled her glasses off her face. “That’s…an added wrinkle. Just…take it slow, OK? And ask for help when you need it. You’ve got people to help you, Toby, but unlike them, you’re going to have to articulate what you need from them. And you _do_ need things from them.”

Toby tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “OK.”

“OK. We’re done.” Bissell stood, and Toby followed suit. 

“What’s your report going to say?” Toby asked as Bissell rounded her desk.

“I need to review my notes before I decide on the narrative.”

“I mean the diagnosis code. You said you’d include…what’s your diagnosis?”

“F43.0,” Bissell said.

“That’s ‘acute stress reaction’.”

“I know, I’ve actually done this before,” Bissell teased, rounding the desk to stand in front of Toby. “You experienced an expected, normal reaction to extraordinary stressors that will eventually dissipate. Told you you were a simple case.”

Toby cocked his head. “Does that mean your recommendation—”

“The neurologist at Whitehull Hospital ordered light duty for a few days. _I am going to support that recommendation._ But once that head injury heals, you’re ready to go back to work. You’ve got some things to work through, but you’re not going to endanger yourself or the team again. And why is that?”

“Because I’m not numb anymore,” Toby sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Because you’re not numb anymore,” Bissell affirmed. “It was just a little shock. That big brain of yours will fire the way it’s supposed to now. Trust it. Don’t start doubting yourself because of the things you did this weekend. In other words, you’re cleared.”

Toby let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thanks.” He picked up his messenger bag and began to wander slowly towards the door.

“We’ll see you back here for your next appointment,” Dr. Bissell called.

Toby turned. “I thought you were going to pass the fit-for-duty eval.”

“I am. This is for regular outpatient therapy.”

“I didn’t request outpatient therapy.”

“You were going to,” Bissell assured.

Toby squinted at her. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Sure you were. Toby, you may not be stark raving mad, but you have had the worst- _period_ -weekend- _period_ -ever- _period_. You need someone to work with to process all that. You haven’t even started with the emotional aftereffects of this incident with Collins, which you very revealingly call ‘the thing,’ and whatever happens next with Happy is bound to be a barrel of laughs. I thought we’d start with twice a week, then dial it back accordingly. What do you think?”

“Well, I thought what with being a Harvard-trained psychiatrist myself and all…”

“Toby,” Bissell extended her business card. “If you’re gonna be the big shoulders for all of them, don’t you think you occasionally need somebody to be the big shoulders for you?”

Toby didn’t take the card. He smiled, threading his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Doc. And thanks.”

“Nice to meet you too. And you’re welcome.”

Toby reached the door to the lobby before turning on his heel and marching back into her office in a snit. “Give me the damn card.” 

Bissell handed it over wordlessly.

“Funny,” he called over his shoulder, already on his way back out as her read the business card. “It doesn’t say here that your title is Pain-in-Toby-Curtis’s-Ass, but you do it like it’s your job.”

“I do that for love of the sport,” she called as he yanked the door closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to update as quickly next time, but I wanted to go ahead and share this extra-long chapter since I had it done early.
> 
> Next time: Toby and Happy make some decisions about where they go from here, and we discover how the fic got its name.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and commenting...it ALWAYS makes my day.


	10. I Found the Words to Say But They Just Blister on my Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby and Happy talk about the road ahead and make some decisions about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at long last! I hope I haven't lost readers in the interim...real life was pretty busy, and I wanted to make sure Part 2 was thoroughly mapped out before I went much further.
> 
> Angst aplenty in this chapter, friends.
> 
> It still means the world to me that people are reading and recommending and commenting on this fic. Thank you so very much for the kind welcome to this community.

**Chapter 10: I Found the Words to Say But They Just Blister on my Tongue**

**‘i sold my hallelujah when I laid my soul in you. love ain't nothing more than black magic. better watch what you wish for; it might happen.’ - ruston kelly, ‘black magic’**

 

* * *

Toby pressed his phone to his ear as he emerged from the elevators in the lobby of Dr. Bissell’s office building. “Hey, Sly.” Sylvester immediately began speaking a mile a minute. “Yeah, I’m done. Well, it was a long…” Toby checked the time. Almost three hours?!? No _wonder_ he was so exhausted. “ _Extra_ long session. No, it was fine. I passed.” Sylvester continued his rapid-fire questioning on the other end of the line. “Of course I know you talked to her, Sly, I know everything. Always remember that.” Sylvester stammered on the other end of the line. “I’m not pissed at you, Pal. I mean, I thought it was an unusual forum for you to admit that you’re attracted to me, but I’m not here to judge. Nothing but love here.” Sylvester’s words started coming even more quickly. “Listen, Sly,” Toby interrupted. “I need a ride. Who’s still around?” Sylvester’s speech slowed a little as he filled Toby in. Toby pivoted on his heels and looked out the doors at the other end of the lobby. “You’re kidding me. OK. OK, I’ll be back in a few.”

He ended the call and exhaled long, closing his eyes, working to center himself. Only then did he realize he hadn’t asked who was waiting for him. Bissell had said not to waste his energy on embarrassment, and he knew, intellectually, that she was correct. But he wasn’t sure yet what he wanted to say to any of them. He paced in a slow circle, mentally wrestling with his nervousness. Finally, he stopped mid-stride, shook his head in silent self-rebuke, adjusted his hat on his head and started across the lobby in a determined stride.

* * *

 

Happy stared up at the glass awning that extended from the front of the office building. She’d paced for an hour along the low wall of the Spanish-style fountain in the courtyard before she’d assumed her present position, prone on the fountain wall, staring up at the stained glass above her and the dusky sky beyond that. The fountain’s cascading water filled the space with white noise, and she’d barely seen anyone enter or exit the building, probably due to the hour. 

Waiting should drive her crazy. It normally did. But she’d been here nearly two hours now, and she’d just been…waiting. Existing. She was nervous to see Toby, to hear how the eval had gone. But beyond that…normally she would have designed a more pleasing pattern rotation for the fountain’s waterfall, calculated the cubic footage of the reservoir and cross-referenced it with climate statistics to determine how often it would need to be refilled, then moved on to the triangular glass panes in the awning, laying out new patterns for them without adding any additional glass. Damnedest thing, though. Those triangular tiles? Their edges looked exactly like criss-crossing pieces of dental floss, keeping her from helping Toby, unwittingly playing a role in _hurting_ Toby. She blinked, and the mental image of the floss scattered, but the faint taste of bile in the back of her throat was still there. She breathed out slowly, and willed the floss imagery not to return, but it hadn’t worked the previous six times, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

“That’s called loitering, you know.”

She felt relief tug the corners of her mouth up, just a little. If he was good enough to joke, he was probably good enough to pass the eval.

“What are you, a cop?” She rolled her head to the side to see him bouncing on his heels with his thumbs hooked around the strap of his satchel.

“I could be a cop,” he grinned.

She pushed herself to a sitting position. “You absolutely, positively could not be a cop, _ever_ , Toby.”

Toby cocked his head. “Why are you waiting around on me?”

“You needed a ride and Cabe thought you might not be thrilled to see him,” Happy shrugged. “I was going to be downtown anyway. Of course,” she looked at her watch, “that was nearly two hours ago.”

“I know,” Toby rubbed at an eye. “That…ended up taking a while.”

Happy picked furiously at the edge of one thumbnail. “Can I ask how it went?”

“Think you just did,” Toby shrugged. “I passed — what else is new?” He arched an eyebrow, quirked a corner of his mouth.

“Was…the doctor helpful?”

Toby pursed his lips before nodding. “You’d like her; she’s a real ballbuster.”

He should have seen it coming, really. But by the time he’d processed the fact that the doors to the lobby were opening, Bissell was already breezing past the both of them, calling out an obnoxiously cheerful good night.

Toby let his eyes slide closed. “ _Dammit_ ,” he whispered. “I’ve got no game lately.”

Happy curiously watched the stranger go, then met Toby’s eyes again. “You don’t seem…you passed, I thought you’d be, um…pumped.”

“Oh, God, I am,” Toby crouched on the fountain wall next to her. “I really am. I just…I realized during that session that I’ve got a lot of work in front of me.” He breathed out, scrubbed his face with his hands. “When…when one experiences…what I experienced, courtesy of that…”

“Monster,” Happy supplied.

Toby nodded. “There are likely to be lasting effects.” He snatched his hat off his head and twirled it in his hands. “I was…I’ve kinda been…overwhelmed, since everything happened. Shell-shocked. I was bound and determined that I wasn’t going to let what he did…and what he tried to do…get to me, but…” he swallowed hard, forced himself to look at Happy. “There _are_ lasting effects.” He shifted his eyes to look ahead. “And there _will be_ lasting effects.”

Happy nodded, wide-eyed. “All this came out of that session?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Oh,” Happy deflated, nearly crumpled before his eyes, breathing heavily. “Oh, good. That’s good. Doc,” Happy reached forward, laid her hands on either side of his face, “you have not been OK since we got you back. You have not been yourself; you have not been…even remotely…OK.”

“I know,” Toby smiled, but there was a sad tinge to it. He reached up to grasp her wrist, rubbed his thumb over her pulse point. “You’ve been worried; I know.”

“Worried _sick_ , Doc.” Toby dropped his eyes, puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled, nodded. “Which doesn’t mean I don’t own my part in —”

“You’ve got no part in _this_ , Happy,” he shook his head. “I mean, the one-two punch was no picnic, but…the only part you had in the thing at the warehouse was saving my life.”

Happy knit her brows together, nodded. “Well...my compliments to Dr. Ballbuster.” She pulled her hands from his face and began fidgeting with them in her lap, looking off to the side. 

Toby watched her, tilted his head to the side. “Oh,” he breathed. “Happy wants to help but doesn’t know where to start,” he nodded, to himself more than anything. “You need information.” 

“You don’t have to —”

“I want to. Not for everybody, but for you…Cabe’s going to get a report that provides basic details, which I’m sure Walter will see, one way or another. The others are not welcome to that information — but you…Happy, I’m gonna need your help to get past this. And to do that, you need to understand what’s happening.” He propped his elbows on his knees and bowed his head, worrying at his forehead with his fingertips. “Something like that happens, and the psyche lapses almost immediately into shock. It’s not unlike physical shock — all the mental and emotional resources begin to triage with the singular goal of survival. This can be incredibly effective in the near-term, as it was in my case. But once the danger has passed, psychogenic shock requires its own kind of care. You become hypersensitive to some stimuli, completely numb to others. The exit from that state of mind is something that needs to be monitored carefully. Dr. Curtis knew that, but _Toby_ ignored it, and fixated on moving immediately into something so wonderful it was going to negate every _sucky_ thing I was trying _not_ to feel. So I proposed.”

Happy bowed her head.

“Mmm,” Toby acknowledged the guilt markers radiating from her. “I’m not letting you off the hook for that, Happy. Not for an instant. But the fact of the matter is, you _did_ try to stop it, delay it, keep it from happening that night. It was too little, and it was far, _far_ too late. That it happened is on you. That it happened on the heels of the thing at the warehouse…that was on me. And I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t…” Happy pressed her palms against her eyelids. “I just…I cannot _stand_ to hear you apologize for any of this. I know what you’re trying to say, Toby, but _none_ of this is your fault.”

“Look who’s talkin’, Ms. Guilt Complex,” he nudged her with his knee. “Maybe, for this part, we both need to agree to place the blame squarely on his shoulders, where it belongs.”

Happy hesitated, then nodded. 

“We’re gonna have to remind each other of that, when we forget,” Toby said.

Happy exhaled heavily. “You’re right that I want to help and don’t know how. What do I do?”

“Don’t know yet, Hap. The shock from Friday has worn off — typically does after 72 hours. So, I’m gonna seem…more like myself, as you said, from here on out. On the other hand,” he sighed, “trauma creates cognitive dissonance. That can leave a person more prone to intrusive thoughts, nightmares, visual afterimages, memory and concentration issues, avoidance of activities that trigger memories of the event, hypervigilance, mood swings, depression, anxiety…the list is as long as your arm. I don’t know which of those I’m going to experience yet. I’ll just have to take them as they come. When they do…it’s my responsibility to ask for the support I need. You just need to be there for me to ask, that’s all.”

“You got it,” Happy nodded vigorously against the dread she felt at the notion of the suffering still ahead of Toby. Her heart was so full that it felt like it would break or burst, and she wasn’t sure which. “Toby, I…I just…” No, she decided. Not now. The timing wasn’t right to say it. He’d think it was pity. “I’m just so sorry any of this happened.”

He pressed his lips together tightly, the picture of self-consciousness and discomfort. “Me, too. Listen, Happy, it’s not gonna be permanent. We heal. It’s a temporary setback. What’s most important in…” and he almost wanted choke on the word, “…recovery from something like this is that you’re willing to do the work and that you have a support system. I’m ready to put this behind me. If I’ve got you…and the others…I’ve got everything I need. From there, it’s just a matter of working the problem.”

“You’ve got me,” Happy breathed. “And if the others act like morons, I can fix that with a simple headlock.”

Toby laughed, and it loosened the knot in her chest, just a little.

“You can stop hovering, you know. I’m not gonna break.”

“I’m not hovering!”

He motioned around the outdoor space with his hand. “Waiting around on me? You _just happened_ to be downtown?”

“You needed a ride, and I _did_ just happen to be downtown,” Happy said. “I had some appointments.”

Toby pulled a face. “You don’t have _appointments_.”

“I can have appointments sometimes,” she said, standing. “I can occasionally act like a grown-up, if I have to.”

“Yeah? What were these grown-up appointments of yours?”

“If you must know, I had to give my statement at LAPD headquarters,” Happy said.

That brought Toby up short. “Really?”

Happy shrugged. “We all needed to. And I had to see my divorce lawyer.”

Toby had been about to stand, but that statement made him go limp as a rag doll. “I’m sorry, what?”

Happy arched an eyebrow, pleased to have surprised him. “I got a divorce lawyer the day after we got back from Vietnam to try to sort this mess out,” Happy said. “No one from the bus stop bench this time. He’s been researching my options for annulment or divorce that won’t require _his_ cooperation.”

Toby’s mouth dropped open. “You…wanted to say yes. You’d planned to…when I asked, you wanted to be able to—”

“ _Of course_ I wanted to say yes, dummy.” 

To her surprise, Toby laughed. A relieved, delighted laugh shook his shoulders as he brought a hand to his chest. “You know what? I’m not entirely sure I knew that until you just said it.”

“You really are an idiot,” she said, and Toby laughed again.

“I guess so.”

“Come on,” she stepped back toward him and extended a hand to help him up. “I’ll take you home.”

She couldn’t help but smile when Toby slapped his hand in hers. “We’re going back to the garage so I can shove this eval in Walter’s face,” he said.

“Fine.” She loosened her grip once he was standing, intending to let him pull away if he wanted. But he kept his fingers threaded loosely through hers the entire walk to the car.

* * *

 

Cabe leaned one shoulder against the back wall of the garage as he lit the cigarette between his lips. He closed his eyes as he took a long first drag, reveling in the feel of the smoke filling his lungs. He’d quit decades ago, but he wasn’t immune to brief relapses in times of prolonged or high stress. When his daughter died, he smoked for nearly a year afterward. Following Baghdad, 9 months. He’d been fighting the urge like hell since the moment he’d heard what they believed to be Toby’s screams Friday, and he’d finally broken over after the argument with Toby that morning. He’d told himself he was walking down to Kovelsky’s, but instead he’d walked straight to the convenience store across the street and bought a pack of his old brand and a lighter that afternoon. This was his third one already. He was officially smoking again. 

His phone rang, and he answered it anxiously when he saw Dr. Bissell’s name on the screen. He was already pacing the alley by the time he said hello. The information she offered was brief, and thanks to medical privacy laws, necessarily vague. But it was enough. Toby was OK to work. And with a little time and some therapy, Toby would be OK altogether.

“You were right to call me,” Bissell said. “Don’t second guess yourself.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he breathed out, smoke curling into a cloud in front of his face. 

“And don’t treat him with kid gloves, either, Cabe,” Bissell said. “He needs space to try to remember how to be who he was before. The tendency of friends and family in these cases is that they subconsciously try to hold the patient in the place of trauma. Don’t ignore any warning signs, but the best thing you can do for him now is make sure that you and the others give him room to heal. He can take it from there.”

“I’m on it. You cracked a tough nut today, you know.”

“I cracked you all those years ago, didn’t I?” Bissell said. “After you’ve climbed Everest, nothing seems tough. Get some rest tonight, Cabe.”

“Good night.” He touched the screen to end the call and stared at the phone for a moment, shaking his head and grinning in spite of himself. Collins had failed. They would all be fine.

“I’m approaching from behind, so don't shoot me,” came Toby’s sarcastic voice. Cabe did his best to subtly toss the cigarette, then turned. 

“Hey, kid, I just got off the phone with the evaluator, I hear you—” he was cut off as Toby walked straight into him and tightly gripped his shoulders. Cabe slowly raised his hands to Toby’s back. 

“Thanks, Cabe,” Toby said softly. 

Cabe pressed his lips together, fought the tightness in his throat. “I told you,” he said, then cleared his throat, “we take care of our own.”

Toby slapped the back of Cabe’s shoulder, then released him. “Sorry I was an ass before.”

It was dark in the alley, but Cabe heard the sniffle at the end of the sentence, and decided it wasn’t too soon to start following Bissell’s advice. “Which time?”

Toby startled momentarily, then crossed his arms over his chest. “And to think I was gonna wait until tomorrow before I called you out.”

“Called me out on what?” 

“When the hell did you start smoking?”

Cabe rolled his eyes. “1975, Toby.”

Toby nodded. “That was before I was born.”

“Just because you’ve got that bum neck doesn’t mean I won’t hit you!”

“Do I have to tell you how _stupid_ smoking is?”

“I am literally begging you not to.”

“Hmm,” Toby looked him up and down. “Why don’t you tell me the date that you quit for good?” He turned and started back down the alley.

“It’s gonna be today, isn’t it?” Cabe mumbled.

“Damn right,” Toby said, and Cabe saw him toss something into the dumpster as he passed, banking it off the wall of the garage. 

It was a full second before Cabe thought to check his breast pocket, where, of course, he found the cigarettes and lighter missing. “ _Dammit_.”

“You’re welcome,” Toby sung. 

* * *

Happy had left Toby to talk to Cabe in the alley, and was just setting her things down when Toby swung the door open so hard it hit the wall. He walked into the room radiating triumph. She knew he was exhausted, and full of dread, and still not quite OK. That he could pull this off so convincingly was one of the things about him that fascinated her. 

Toby surveyed the room as if it was his kingdom. “Bring me the genius man-child, so that I may serve him a heaping helping of _kiss-my-ass_ casserole.”

“Little ears,” Paige warned, nodding over to Ralph at the dining table.

“Ralphie-Boy, don’t swear,” Toby called. “Do as I say, not as I do. Also, remind your mother than you are,” he turned back to Paige, “eleven _freaking_ years old and do not need to be kept in a bubble.”

“Mom, I’m—”

“Don’t ever remind me of that, Ralph,” Paige said, never breaking her glare from Toby.

“Where is He Who Is Wrong?” Toby asked.

“He ran an errand,” Paige shrugged.

“Dammit.”

“Toby!”

“Ralph?” Toby called.

“Do as you say not as you do,” Ralph said. “But I’m eleven freaking years old.”

Toby turned back to Paige and clapped his hand over his mouth, but it did nothing to hide his grin. “Sorry.”

“I can’t even hit you because I don’t want to hurt you,” Paige huffed. “Walter will be back in an hour or so.”

Toby nodded. “I can wait.”

* * *

He was on the roof 20 minutes later, staring at downtown L.A. as it illuminated the night. He’d settled at his desk to wait for Walter’s return, and his damned brain had started spinning again. Initially, he’d been on the lookout for the prying eyes of the team, but to his surprise, that wasn’t what he’d found. They each greeted him in turn, upbeat, casual, and let him do what he wanted without the hovering that had become customary over the course of the weekend.

What he noticed, instead, was that many members of the team gravitated to Happy. They tried to be subtle, but he saw Cabe’s ear-to-ear grin, one Happy matched before he clapped her shoulder, saw Tim’s goofy fist-bump, Ralph’s whispering and excited bouncing. Happy seemed relaxed and relieved as she puttered at her workbench, showed Ralph how to properly calibrate one of her torque wrenches. She looked up at one point, seeming to feel his eyes on her, and offered him a full-wattage smile. 

He’d returned it, reflexively, then felt his heart drop into his stomach. He couldn’t do this. It would be easy to pretend, for now, while he needed her support, that things between them were fine. But they weren’t, and the issue would rear its head again down the road, as he began to get a handle on the trauma and its aftereffects. Bissell had advised him to focus on his recovery first. Failure to articulate that need to Happy would be to lead her on, and _that_ would be unforgivable.

“‘Meet me on the roof’?” Happy read his text as she came through the door. “Since when are you covert?” He took a steadying breath and turned, the look on his face stopping Happy mid-step. “What’s the matter?”

Toby chewed on his bottom lip. “Listen, if you remember only one thing from what I’m about to say, I want it to be this: I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Happy froze. “Oh no,” she breathed, and it turned into a nervous laugh. “Not good.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said.

“Wait,” she pushed her hands forward. “Can I just…can I say something first?”

Toby shook his head. “Happy, you don’t have to say any—”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted.

“I know you are.”

“I should have told you. I know that.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“That I didn’t do that has caused damage, a lot of damage to the trust that—”

“I’m not up for this right now, Happy,” Toby said, stepping closer.

“I’m just saying—”

“I _can’t_ do this right now, Happy,” Toby repeated, then pointed at her. “You’ll say what you think I want to hear because you want to move us past this. Then,” he pointed at himself, “I’ll counter with specific points that I’ll want to make. You’ll want to address those points, and before we know it, we’re going ‘round and ‘round. It’s unavoidable. And I can’t do it right now.”

Happy fell silent, pulled her feet together, began nervously bending her fingers back.

“Geez, with the face, like I don't feel bad enough already,” Toby mumbled to himself, turning to pace as he ran his hand through his hair. “I love you. Happy, you’re the love of my life. I _know_ that. I can’t change that, and,” he laughed a little in spite of himself, “I don’t want to. And I know that you care about me, and I know you’ve been trying, that you’ve let a lot of walls down the last few months. I’m so glad you want to fix this, Happy. But that’s going to take a lot of work, for both of us. It’s work I’m willing to do, but I can’t now. The therapist tonight, she…emphasized the importance of focusing on my recovery from the thing,” he shook his head, “from the _kidnapping_ , dammit, and…and hostage situation. And until I get my head around that…I need to press pause on the…romantic…aspect of us.”

Happy stayed rooted to her spot, jaw clenched, battling tears.

“Say something, please, Happy.”

She forced a shaky breath out. “We’re breaking up.”

Toby shook his head. “I don’t want to call it that. I hope you don’t want to call it that. Look, both of these things have hit at the same time, and, unfortunately, I realized today that I’ve _got_ to take care of the trauma issues now. And I just…I don’t think I’ve got the RAM,” he put his hands on either side of his head, “to handle both at the same time.”

Happy folded her lips between her teeth and nodded shakily.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Toby pleaded. “Like I said I’m going forever. Happy, listen to me, you are _never_ going to lose me from your life, OK? And God, I hope you’ll return that promise because I don’t want to do time on this rock without you close by.”

“And…when you’re feeling better?”

“Then we’ll be able to get to work on fixing us. I mean, if that’s what you still want.”

Happy nodded, seeming a little steadier. “And in the meantime, we’re break—”

“In the meantime,” Toby ran both hands through his hair, “I’d like it if we can go back to being friends. Just…just for now. I meant what I said, Happy, I need you with me while I work on some of this stuff. If that’s not something you feel like you can do…” he shook his head, “I understand, and I’ll deal with it. But I…have never needed a best friend as much as I do right now.”

“You think we can still be friends, after everything?”

Toby nodded. “It won’t be like nothing every happened, but…friends can maintain functionality in the relationship when there’s some distance and awkwardness between them. Lovers can’t. Those issues have to be addressed, or they’ll fester and become worse, and I’m not in a position to do address those issues now.”

Happy nodded, slowly. “I guess that makes sense. Plus, you know, it’ll help with the team…” she gestured downstairs.

“I don’t want you to do this for the team’s sake, or for mine,” Toby said. “If what you want is a clean break, then…we’ll find a way to work together, Happy. It was how we started, after all. I will do whatever it takes to make sure we can work together. Much as I would never admit this in front of Egomaniac Walter, Scorpion is the best thing that has ever happened to any of us. We’re not going to…I’ll make that work, OK? Don’t agree to this because you’re worried what it means for our jobs.”

She shrugged. “It’s not like I can refuse, and we stay together by default.”

“I’m just asking to press pause, Happy. I swear, I’m not going anywhere. I wish to hell I didn’t have to ask for this, but…but I think I need it.”

Happy blew a puff of air through her nose, and turned away, pacing to the edge of the roof. “You know what I wish?” she said, sniffling a little, then batting furiously at her cheeks, hating the fact that her brain just _had_ to remind her that this was the spot where he’d first asked her to go out with him. “I wish we could see into the future, see a year from tonight, or two. See where we are once all of this is said and done. I could give you your distance, Toby, no problem, if I knew we would be able to fix us eventually.”

Toby pulled his hands down his face. “I want to,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I plan to. But I don’t know how our dynamic is going to change when we start to sort through some of this stuff, Happy, and I just…I can’t bear to promise you something when I don't know for sure if I can deliver. Too many people have broken promises to you already. I won’t be the next.”

He stopped behind her, brought a hand to the top of her head and drew it down her hair. When she didn’t flinch, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, tangling his hands with hers where they rested on the ledge.

“Here’s what I can promise,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I meant what I said to you downstairs Friday night. I’ve loved you since I can’t remember when, and…and I’m gonna love you ’til I can’t forget how. From there, we’re both going to have to take a leap of faith.”

Happy sighed, her tears flowing freely now, despite her best efforts. “I’m not the kind of person who has faith in things, Toby.”

“Not true,” Toby said. “You want to believe in things, Happy, you’re just scared. But you were scared of us, too, and look how that turned out.”

Happy rolled her eyes. “We’re _literally_ crashing and burning right now.”

Toby leaned his head against hers. “Hey,” he said, voice tight. “It’s gonna be OK, you know.” Happy sighed again. “Yes, that’s a platitude, and a fairly obvious one, because I want you to stop crying, and because I don’t want to start. But as long as neither one of us aren’t going anywhere, _somehow_ it’s going to be OK, Happy. I’m still betting on us — my last bet ever. And I keep advising Walter to do this with Paige, so I’m gonna take my own advice. I’m letting it ride.”

Happy sniffed, tried to gather herself. “Then, I guess I’m betting on us, too.”

The door to the roof squeaked, and they both tensed. “Turn around,” Toby warned.

“Walter’s back,” Sly said from the doorway. “He wants to meet. All of us.”

Toby rolled his eyes, exhaled hard. “Be right there.” 

They listened as the door closed.

“What were the two things I wanted you to remember, if nothing else?”

Happy huffed through her dissipating tears. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“And I am always gonna love you,” he pressed a long kiss to the side of her face, tightened his grip on her. Happy closed her eyes, tightened her grip on him in return. They stood together for a moment, both of them quietly sniffling, but eventually Toby pressed another kiss to her temple and stepped back.

“You up for this meeting?”

Happy sighed, not turning to face him. “Guess I’d better be.”

Toby swiped at his face. “You should take a minute,” he said. “I’ll stall Walter.”

Happy nodded. “Be down in a minute.”

Toby stopped at the door. “You know what, Hap? You set that perfect internal clock of yours for 365 days. I’m willing to bet we come out on top.”

“Sure,” Happy said, full of false bravado. “I mean, we’re just pressing pause, right?”

Toby smiled softly. “Just pressing pause.”

* * *

 

Most of the team was assembled by the time Toby gathered himself and made his way downstairs. His earlier excitement at the thought of rubbing his satisfactory eval in Walter's face was long gone. He just wanted to make it through this meeting and then get the hell away from people for a while.

“Where’s Happy?” Walter asked, growing impatient.

“On her way down, Walter, give her a minute,” Toby said. “Listen, gang, while the rest of us are all here…I am asking…not asking, actually, insisting…that everybody let up on Happy. _And_ I am talking to _you_ , Team Toby Captain,” he pointed at Sly, “and I am talking to _you_ , Queen of the Office Love Triangle,” he pointed at Paige, who was turning beet red as her eyes shifted between a noticeably tense Tim and Walter. “Seriously, all of you, I get that you’re on my side. I’m glad. I’m gonna need it, in the days and weeks ahead. But Happy is going through some things, too, and she needs you guys just as much as I do. Maybe more. You want to help me out? Get her back, too. I can’t worry about my own thing if I’m worried about her too. What's between us is just that — between us. In the meantime, we are both still your friends and teammates. Open season on Happy is over. Everybody got it?”

“Anybody who doesn’t will have it explained to them again by me,” Cabe growled.

Happy returned moments later, quiet, even for her, but showing no outward signs of the conversation on the roof.

Walter gathered the team around a collection of mismatched cups on the cafeteria table. “OK, first of all, I am pleased to report that once Dr. Curtis is cleared from his head injury, which we expect will happen at the end of the week, he will be able to rejoin us in the field without further delay.” He looked at Toby. “Or restriction. An event to which I am…looking forward,” he bounced once on his heels. “Until then, he will be on modified duty, probably manning things in the van or the garage, depending on the nature of the case. We’ll play it by ear. But this turn of events did bring to my attention a broader issue,” Walter continued.

“Here we go,” Toby sighed.

“Easy, Doc,” Cabe chided.

Walter stared at Toby a beat before continuing. “ _As I was saying_ , we have been fortunate at Scorpion to have a doctor on the team. Toby has served not only as our behaviorist, but as a de facto team physician. What we have not always been vigilant about is policing ourselves; I’m as guilty as anyone. That behavior came back to bite us this weekend, when our team physician was the one injured. So, new rule: Members of Team Scorpion will report their injuries and seek proper medical care for them. Dr. Curtis,” he nodded to a fuming Toby, “will make the determination as to whether more formalized medical care is called for, and we will not dispute his expertise. _In exchange_ ,” he nodded his head deeply at Toby, “when Dr. Curtis is the team member in question, the need for formalized medical care will exist if two or more members of the team deem that it does.”

Toby crossed her arms, clenching his jaw.

“As a courtesy, Toby,” Tim said. "SEALs listen to their brothers when there's a concern. This isn't that different."

Toby moved his eyes around the room, finally settling again on Walter. “Alright,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fair enough. But _three_ team members.”

Walter jutted his chin out. “Done.”

“Actually, it wouldn’t be that difficult to reach that total, Toby, with the alliances at work within the group,” Sylvester said. “For example, I’m always going to vote with Happy, because I don’t want her to hurt me, and —”

“OK, how about we _not_ talk him out of it?” Paige said pointedly.

“Now that the official business is over, I thought we might observe a bit of personal business,” Walter reached for the bag on his desk. “Megan frequently accused me of not being a man of occasion, and she was right. I have very little use for sentiment, but since her death I have…endeavored to embrace some of her critiques of me.” He pulled a bottle of bourbon from the bag — Toby’s favorite brand, he knew — and approached the table again, turning the label toward Toby with a sheepish grin. “For the last few hours I have been…reflecting on recent events, and I thought it important that, as a team, we mark this particular occasion, for we have tremendous reason to celebrate.”

He opened the bottle and began to fill and distribute each glass on the table. “Since our partnership with Homeland came along, the mission and nature of our work has changed entirely. We succeed most of the time, and the stakes are always high, but they have never been as personal as they were Friday.” He met Toby’s eyes and raised his glass, and the others followed suit. “So tonight, I celebrate not only our collective good work, but that we are still _collected_. To this tea—” he stopped, smiled to himself, shook his head. “No, Toby, I think you put it best in the hospital Saturday. To family.”

“To family,” the group echoed over the clinking of glasses.

Toby touched each glass in the group with his own, then looked down at Happy, next to him. “Cheers, Pal.” He tilted the glass toward her.

Happy gave him as much of a smile as she could muster and touched his glass with hers, then took a tiny sip. Toby stepped away and rounded the table, wrapping Walter in an unwanted hug. The group chatted amiably among themselves, laughed, wished Toby well with a hand to the shoulder or a hug, all but Happy. She was rooted to the spot, staring at the table.

“No, no that’s no good,” she mumbled to herself.

“What’s no good?” Sly turned toward her.

“No, that’s just…that’s not acceptable.”

“Happy?” Sly asked. “You OK?” 

The question attracted Toby’s attention on the other side of the table, where Walter had just handed him the bottle. “Happy?”

Happy met his eyes. “I’m not going to let you do that. I can’t. I can’t just…stand by and let you pull away.”

Toby set his glass down and began to round the table. “OK, come on, let’s go outside.”

“No, Doc,” Happy said, her breaths coming quick and heavy now. “I know I’m not the best at these things, but I must be worse than I thought if _you_ think that…Scorpion is one of the best things to ever happen to any of us, Toby, but it’s not the best thing that ever happened to me. _You_ are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Toby.” Toby froze, paces from her. “ _You_ are! If I learned anything Friday, it’s that I can’t lose the best thing that ever happened to me. So you need space? Fine. Take your space. You want to go back to being friends? I’ll respect that, for now. And yeah, maybe we won’t make it, but I’m not going quietly. When you love someone but they won’t let you in, you don’t keep quiet about it!” She was talking so loud now her voice was full of gravel, cheeks stained with tears. “I will be… _relentless…_ unyielding, I will do whatever it takes. More than it takes! I…am going to break down this wall of yours. I’m the reason you built it in the first place. I’m going to get you back,” she choked. “I’m…I’m going to _earn_ you back.”

Toby chewed on his lip, eyes bright. “I’m not punishing you, I swear, Happy.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But I…love you,” she exhaled, barely able to believe she’d said it. “I should have said it way before now, but it…I don’t know, it always sounded so _stupid_ in my head.” She turned to pace, bringing her hands to her forehead. “Screw it, if it sounds stupid it sounds stupid,” she turned. “I love you,” she said on an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t even know when it started, but I know that I do.” She put her hands on her hips, nodded to herself as if confirming it internally. “I love you, Toby.”

 Toby stared, motionless, at a spot that floated somewhere between him and Happy. “I…um…I still have this thing I’ve got to deal with now.”

“I know,” Happy nodded vigorously. “We’ll still press pause, or…whatever you want to call it. I’m saying, if this is your way of easing me into a breakup—”

“It’s not.”

“I know I was wrong, and I know I did this, but I’m not going down without a fight, Doc.”

Toby nodded, still staring at thin air. “Relentless? Unyielding?” He lifted his eyes to hers and she saw him relax, if only a little. “I gotta say, that…that sounds…kinda familiar.”

Happy shrugged. “It’s called the Curtis Method. Some guy from Harvard. He’s a wiseass, but, having been on the receiving end of this technique, I have to admit it’s…undeniably effective.”

Toby swallowed hard, continued to stare at her.

“Just…” Happy took one step closer, then halted herself, oblivious to the stunned faces of the others, or the tears that coursed down her own cheeks. “Just, could you just give me a chance to—”

Toby closed the distance between them in one large step and kissed her senseless, hands on both sides of her jaw. Her arms locked around his torso like steel bands. The team, stunned mute at the revelation that they had apparently broken up, breathed a collective sigh of relief, meeting each other’s eyes with silent reassurances.

Toby pulled back a fraction of an inch. “I’m still pissed at you, you know. We’ve still got to—”

“I know,” Happy nodded against his face. “You should be. I’m up for the challenge.”

He pulled back a few more inches. “You _really_ think you can bring the…the Curtis Method…like the man himself?”

She smiled, reached up to wipe a few escaped tears from his cheeks. “Get ready to be schooled in romance, Doc.”

“You don’t do romance, Happy,” he grinned.

“Hey, did I not just make a very public profession of love? And you know how that mortifies me.”

His smile grew even bigger. “So you did. Say it again.”

Happy nodded behind him. “They’re all staring.”

Toby turned to see them abruptly turn away, each inordinately interested in the nearest inanimate object. He rolled his eyes and tuned back to her. “The Curtis Method is about repetition, Happy. And, actually, now that I think about, looking stupid in public.”

Happy cast her eyes skyward. “Fine. I love you.”

Toby stared at her, rapt, then shook his head, thumbs tracing her jawline. “Holy crap,” he whispered to himself. “Happy Quinn loves me.”

“Tell me you knew that.”

Toby nodded, goofy grin on his face. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d ever say it like that. Say it again.”

“You’ve always gotta push,” she smiled. “I love you.”

Toby exhaled.

Happy raised her eyebrows. “And you…”

“And I love you, too.” Happy’s face split with a smile. “Buttercup.” The smile disappeared instantly. “No Buttercup,” he backpedaled. “Just…” Toby put his hands up before pulling her into a hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Just…I love you, too.”


	11. Where Do We Begin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang begins the arduous process of trying to walk ahead.
> 
> ‘where do we begin in this unhappy ending? where do we begin, after all that we’ve done? how do we begin to say i forgive you? how do we begin to repair this family affair?’ - abra moore, ‘family affair’

**‘where do we begin in this unhappy ending? where do we begin, after all that we’ve done? how do we begin to say i forgive you? how do we begin to repair this family affair?’ - abra moore, ‘family affair’**

* * *

The unexpected tender moment between Toby and Happy boosted the spirits of more than just the two of them. Amid a flurry of reassurances and gestures of support, an upbeat atmosphere descended on the garage, and the gathering evolved into a bit of an impromptu celebration — of Toby’s safe return, of the team’s victory over Collins, of renewed hope for light at the end of many rather personal tunnels.

After his second round of Toby’s bourbon, Tim caught Walter’s eye and gestured to the other side of the garage. 

Walter didn’t bother to greet him as they approached each other. They both knew what this was going to be about.

“Mind if we clock out for a minute?” Tim asked.

Walter nodded, finding himself more comfortable if he cast his eyes back toward the team’s antics in the kitchen than if he met Tim’s gaze directly.

“So…off the record, then?”

“Say what you want to say,” Walter ground out.

Tim nodded, took another sip of his drink. “Alright,” he said. “I was going to be polite, but here’s what I _want_ to say. Man, what the _actual_ fuck?”

“I owe you an apology,” Walter shrugged, the exasperation dripping off every syllable. 

“That wasn’t one, FYI.”

“Listen, what happened this weekend, that…” and he found himself laughing, because he knew this explanation would fall on deaf ears with the normal, “…it wasn’t personal.”

“I understand,” Tim nodded. “I mention to you that I’m thinking of asking Paige to dinner a few weeks ago, and you say nothing. I continue asking her out, and you say nothing. I get a call from her last week saying _you_ just gave _us_ those tickets, and it doesn’t take your genius IQ to figure out that that kind of trip is an overnight. I couldn’t believe what a _nice_ guy you were, and I even felt bad that I’d thought you were giving me the cold shoulder initially, and then guess who flags us down three quarters of the way to Tahoe? Why would I think any of that was personal?”

“Listen, I…I came to some realizations after you left for Tahoe, and it seemed…ill-advised to allow the trip to continue without making Paige aware—”

“There would have _been_ no trip to Tahoe, had you not—”

“If I had it to do over again, I would have done several things differently,” Walter sighed. “And I did not intend for any of this to happen this way. Beyond that, I don’t know what to offer you.”

“The apology you mentioned?”

Walter crossed his arms and stared across the garage. “I’m sorry.”

Tim exhaled, then lifted his eyebrows with a shake of his head. “Touching.” He began to step away. “Listen,” he turned back to Walter. “Here’s what’s gonna happen next. I didn’t come here looking for a girlfriend, I came here to work, and I wanted to do well here. I still want that. If I can’t gain re-admittance to the Navy…I like this team.” He rolled his eyes, “Well, most of you anyway. You and I can set this aside. I have already told Paige that I’m going to be backing off where she’s concerned, that the next step is up to her. Some free advice? A woman like that? If you can get someone like that to return your feelings…don’t push her away again. She’s already better than you deserve.”

“Hmm,” Walter shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded, then finally met Tim’s eyes. “On that, we concur.”

“And fair warning? If the two of you end up on the same page, no problems here,” Tim laid his hand flat on his chest. “But if she opens the door for me again? I’m walking through it,” Walter tore his eyes away, “And _if that happens_ ,” Tim said pointedly, “I look forward to your being a stand-up man about that, hmm?” A grin tugged the corners of his mouth up, “If for no other reason than that I could kill you with my bare hands?”

He extended his hand, which Walter reluctantly shook. “Air’s clear,” Tim said. “Colleagues.”

Walter nodded. “Colleagues.” Tim returned to the group.

“For now,” Walter muttered.

* * *

Happy reveled in the sound of the chalk in her hand meeting the surface of Sly’s chalkboard. After a day filled with far more talking than was natural or enjoyable to her, she needed the solace of quiet. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but she couldn’t think of sleeping. Her mind was spinning, endlessly analyzing the work ahead of her. 

“Hey,” Walter said softly as he came down the stairs. “I thought everyone had left.”

“Toby decided to do a faceplant on the couch,” Happy said, gesturing over her shoulder to a sleeping Toby. When she’d been unable to rouse him as everyone else was leaving, she’d covered him with a blanket and dimmed the lights on that side of the garage.

“Is he OK?” Walter’s brow furrowed.

Happy turned around. “He’s still nursing that head injury,” she said. “But I think he’s just beat. It was a very…tiring day.”

“Mmm,” Walter nodded in agreement. “A lot of emotional outbursts.”

Happy rolled her eyes. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Sentimental Toaster.”

Walter didn’t rebuke the comment, just cast his eyes back toward Toby. “Do you know what the Homeland shrink said?”

“Most of it, I think,” Happy went back to sketching on the blackboard. “But if he wants you to know, he’s going to have to be the one to tell you.”

“I think I’ve got the gist,” Walter said. “I just don’t know what to…I mean, we did a horrible job of taking care of him this weekend, how do we know whether—”

“If I understood correctly,” Happy said, stopping work to turn back toward Toby’s sleeping form again, “he’s out of that kind of danger now. He said to me tonight that he’s going to need all of us, but that he's responsible for telling us what he needs. So I guess just…try to get back to mostly normal? I don’t know, I suck at this.”

“Me too,” Walter said. “Then again, it was you and me who got emotional tonight, so…maybe we’re improving.”

Happy looked at Walter. “What the hell got into you anyway?”

Walter shrugged. “You gave your statement to the LAPD?”

Happy nodded. “Cabe said his public defender entered an insanity plea at the arraignment today.”

“He did, so now there’ll be a competency hearing to determine whether he’s fit to stand trial. Did…they ask you whether you thought Collins started this whole thing with the intent of killing Toby?”

Happy dropped her gaze, nodded.

“What did you tell them?”

She snapped her head back up, eyes going wide. “I told them yes. What did you tell them?”

Walter shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it. But once they asked, I did, and I told them yes.” He scratched the back of his head. “Last time we saw him, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to work with me again, to keep my attention. I think, as this encounter was unfolding, I believed it was still about that on some level, but when I looked back on the events of the day…yes, I think from the moment he broke out, his primary goal was to injure or kill Toby, to satisfy his rage. So much for his erudite intellectual pursuits.” He breathed out, rolled his shoulders a little to loosen them. “And the more I sit with that notion, the more I find it…unsettling.” He moved his eyes back to Toby. “If Mark didn’t like games so much, if he didn’t like toying with others to demonstrate his superiority, Toby would be dead right now. And that thought is even more unsettling.” 

Happy chewed the inside of her lip. “Never thought I’d be grateful that bastard liked mind games so much,” she said. “But if that’s the reason Toby’s over there snoring louder than my motorcycle idles, then long live the mind games.” She turned back to Walter. “I know you always thought he was one of us, even after the rest of us warned you, even after you had him committed. He’s not…he has _never_ been one of us, Walt.”

“I know that now.” Walter looked over at her. “You should’ve told me you needed help eight years ago.”

Happy shook her head. “I had _just_ started working here. I didn’t know you. You can’t come at this like it was last week.”

“I’m just saying, I would have helped you.”

“Well, _I_ know _that_ now,” Happy said. “I didn’t know then. I wish to hell I had.”

Walter nodded, satisfied that he’d said his piece. “So what’s all this?” He turned his attention to the blackboard, then had to stifle a fit of laughter so he wouldn’t wake Toby. “Oh, my _God_.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re…you’re reverse-engineering the…wooing.”

Happy turned back to the blackboard, surveying her work. “I promised to school him in romance, and then I realized…I know _nothing_ about romance. So I started thinking about my resources, and I realized, what better teacher on what Toby finds romantic than _Toby_?”

“Looks like you’ve created a timeline of significant events between you going all the way back to…wow, Bosnia? This thing between you dates back to Bosnia?”

“Dates back further than that,” Happy said. “But that was the first time we ever openly…whatever.”

“I love our minds,” Walter shook his head as he surveyed Happy’s painstaking notes. “This…this is as thorough and accurate as if we’d been recording it the whole time.”

Happy nodded. “But I don’t know what to do with the raw data.” She threw her arms up. “It’s not as if we can go back in time and start over,” she sighed, “much as I’d like to.”

Walter crossed his arms, took a few steps back as he analyzed the timeline. “OK, so, qualitative analysis…we start with trying to identify themes. From there, you can formulate strategies and tactics.”

Happy furrowed her brow. “Are you helping me with this, O’Brien?”

“I need something to occupy my mind,” he sat on the edge of Sylvester’s desk. “Though, fair warning, if recent evidence is any indication, this is going to be more like the blind leading the blind.”

By sunrise, Walter and Happy had distilled the Curtis Method into just over a dozen or so general tenets. Happy dug in Paige’s desk until she found a new notebook, and transcribed her raw data and the tenets as Walter showered upstairs. She tucked the notebook into her satchel and was erasing the board when Toby began to stir on the couch. She smiled to herself. The Curtis Method: Day 1. _Now_ she felt like she had a strategy.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

Toby’s pacing through the garage was becoming quicker and more agitated with every step. He put his finger to his com. “Guys, where the hell are you?”

“Almost there,” Cabe said. “Relax, Toby.”

“That’s what you said the last time I asked, Cabe, is the damn van actually moving?”

“Toby,” Paige said from behind him. “You’re not helping.”

“They should be here by now.”

“They’re fine,” Paige placated.

“Happy’s...” Toby shook his head and headed for the door.

“She’s _fine_ ,” Paige called.

Toby burst out the door, into the alley, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes and exhaled, tried to quell the memory of the fear in Walter’s voice as he called Happy’s name, coaxed her to open her eyes.

The case was supposed to be easy — Homeland wanted them to plant surveillance devices and software in the L.A. offices of the Russian Consulate, in response to some concerning intel from the CIA. The office was in a mid-rise building downtown. He and Paige had nearly QB’ed the whole operation from the van in the building’s own parking garage, but Walter decided at the last minute that he wanted them to test the signal strength of the surveillance devices’ feeds from Scorpion’s garage. 

Everything started out fine — in retrospect, that should have been the first warning sign. Tim and Cabe stood watch, and Sylvester’s security overrides had made breaching the the appropriate floor no problem. The problem came in the form of the consulate general working late in his office — far later than they’d anticipated. Walter and Happy had spent more than an hour in the ventilation system above the consulate’s office, biding their time. When the consulate left, they’d dropped through the ceiling vent into the room…and then Happy keeled over.

Toby doesn’t really remember much about the seconds afterwards. He knows he was screaming into the com, trying to get more details from Walter, whose high-pitched, breathy voice all but begged Happy to respond to him. Happy came to quickly, and after a moment’s disorientation, had insisted Walter finish the installations. With Tim’s help, Walter had gotten Happy back to the van afterward, and Happy had insisted that a check-up from Toby at the garage would be sufficient — No ER visit.

In the alley, Toby puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled, then scrubbed his face with his hands. One more damn day, and he’d have been cleared of this head injury. He would have been with them. Now it had been more than a half hour since Happy had collapsed and he still hadn’t laid eyes on her.

“Would you stop freaking out, Doc?” Happy’s voice came through the coms. The cadence was slower than usual, the pitch lower. “I’m fine. If there was a major problem we would know by now.”

His heart rate seemed to slow, if only a little. “I’m not freaking out,” he said. “Just get the hell back here so an actual doctor can look at you.”

Less than a minute later, the van pulled into the alley. The side door opened, and Tim bailed out to give Toby room. “Pulse still seems a little fast to me, Toby,” he said.

Toby climbed in and knelt in front of her, pressing two fingers to her neck.

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hi, yourself. Be quiet.” He nodded absently. “You’re right, it’s still a little fast, but it’s down from what you reported when you first got to her. Walter? Where the hell is—”

“Here,” Walter said, staring tensely over Toby’s shoulder, biting his lip. 

“You’re _sure_ she didn’t hit her head coming through that vent?”

Walter shook his head. “I watched as she went through, and I was in the duct,  I think I would have felt it. She planted her feet, stood up, took two steps, then pitched forward.”

“Did she hit anything when she fell?” 

Walter shook his head again.

“Happy? Any pain at all?”

“No. I’m still a little dizzy, and I’m kinda tired. Other than that I feel fine.”

“Are you _dizzy_ or are you _lightheaded_?”

Happy scowled. “What’s the —”

“Is the van spinning?”

“No,” Happy shook her head. “I’m just kinda…” she made an uncertain movement with her hands. 

“That’s lightheaded,” Toby said. “How was she walking earlier?”

“She was a little wobbly,” Tim said, “but she did alright when we helped her.”

Toby bent into her line of vision. “You up for that? I wanna get you inside where I can look at you.”

Happy nodded and scooted toward the van’s side door. Walter wedged a shoulder under one arm. “You should use the loft,” he said. “That way she can lie down if she needs to.”

Toby nodded, reached for her other arm. 

“We’ve got her,” Tim said. “You still need to take it easy. We’ll walk her up the ramp. Grab your gear.”

In the loft, they lowered her to the couch. “OK, guys, give us some room,” Toby said as he perched on the coffee table in front of her. They watched each other in silence as Tim and Walter descended the steps, then Toby laid a palm on the side of her face, brushed his thumb across her temple. “You’re still a little dazed,” he said.

“S’just weird. I really feel fine.”

“Scoot up a little?” Toby pulled her knees forward. “Hold your head still, follow my finger with your eyes.”

* * *

Toby’s exam revealed no head injury or other signs of concussion, and while Happy continued to feel stronger with each passing minute, there were no other immediate explanations as to a cause.

Toby shook his head as he pulled his stethoscope out of his ears. “Blood pressure’s still a little high, but I’m willing to chalk that up to residual stress. You didn’t feel anything strange just before it happened?”

Happy shook her head. 

Toby propped his chin in his hand, regarding her carefully. “You two were prone in that vent for more than an hour. I supposed there’s a chance that the sudden shift in equilibrium…but that shouldn’t have caused you to lose consciousness, a little lightheadedness at worst.”

“Walter said I was only out a few seconds.”

Toby shook his head. “I still don’t like it, Happy. There should be some kind of explanation.” He pressed his lips together. “Maybe your blood sugar dropped. I don’t have anything here to test it, but we can send—”

Happy kept her gaze straight ahead, but caught his hand as he stood and began to step away. “What if…what if I was a little late?”

Toby furrowed his brow. “Late for what?”

Happy cast her eyes up at him. “ _Late_ , Toby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't know how much I appreciate your feedback and your kind words.


	12. Holding on to You Holding on to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curtis Method, Rule #13: Say the things in your head, no matter how stupid you feel. Be willing to make a fool out of yourself.
> 
> Toby realizes he's not the only person struggling with lasting effects from the encounter with Collins.
> 
> Trigger Warning: For those of you who have a thing with needles/blood, there is a brief, non-graphic mention of a venipuncture and a finger prick for a lab test.

**‘guess we both know we’re in love our heads. we got nowhere to go, and no home that’s left. the water is rising on a river turning red. it all might be ok or we might be dead. if everything we’ve got is slipping away, i meant what i said when i said until my dying day. i’m holding on to you holding on to me. maybe it’s all gone black but you’re all i see.’ - mat kearney, ‘all i need’**

* * *

 

_Curtis Method, Rule #13: Say the things in your head, no matter how stupid you feel. Be willing to make a fool out of yourself._

* * *

Toby crumpled abruptly back to the coffee table. “Late.”

Happy squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes.”

“Late.”

Happy nodded, sighed. “Late.”

Toby was staring at an empty spot on the couch in front of him, but he laid his hand palm up on Happy’s knee. With a measure of relief, she threaded her fingers through his. “How late?”

“Six days.” She waited for the anger. The rebuke. But he stayed silent, eyes still straight ahead. His thumb moved against hers. 

“This is unusual for you, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“OK…” he breathed out. “I want to check your blood glucose too; I’m going to send Paige out for a few supplies.” He stood, but she tightened her hand in his.

“You’re _not_ gonna send her out for an early—”

Toby shook his head. “I can put together a rudimentary blood serum test with things she can get at the pharmacy. It might be crude, but it will be just as accurate as a lab test. She won’t know what’s she’s buying, because none of it’s being used as intended. We need to know something concrete.” He squeezed her hand and let go, rounded the couch, then leaned over the back. “What were the two things I wanted you to remember from the roof Monday?”

Happy swallowed. “You love me. And you’re not going anywhere.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Still applies. Don’t stand up until I get back. Won’t take a minute.”

* * *

Toby gave the list to Paige with the general explanation that he’d like to run a few tests. When he returned, he sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Happy on the couch. They were silent for nearly a minute, both staring at their knees.

“I’m just, uh, kinda taking a minute to process…”

“I know,” Happy nodded. “S’alright. Me, too.”

Toby nodded.

“Doc, I love you, too.”

He smiled then, that goofy grin he got every time she said it, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, laid her head on his shoulder.

“It’s unlikely,” Toby said as he rubbed her shoulder. “Considering the efficacy of the birth control you use.”

“I know,” Happy said. “But I never do this, so…”

“Happy,” he breathed out. “I cannot _believe_ you’ve been sitting on this for six—”

“I haven’t,” she shook her head. “With everything that was going on,” and she shuddered, “this time last week, it took me a couple days to notice. And then…I don’t really know what I was doing.”

“Ignoring the problem because you don’t know what to do for every possible outcome,” Toby said. “Hardly a first for you.”

“Lecturing me, hardly a first for _you_.”

“This is a discussion that we have had recently,” Toby said, steely resolve in his voice even as he continued to rub comforting circles into her shoulder. “This affects both of us, Happy. I deserve to know.”

“I didn’t — don’t even know if it is anything yet.”

“Happy,” Toby turned sideways on the couch and turned her shoulders toward him. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t sit on this…possibility…because you needed to know that I wasn’t staying out of obligation.”

Happy dropped her eyes. “Plus, you know, with everything you’ve been going through—”

He nodded, looking pained, pressed his lips together tightly, then pointed at himself. “Behaviorist.” He leaned forward. “Look at me.”

Happy raised her eyes again. 

“I am not going to break. Do not put me in a bubble. Happy, I can’t — God, this strikes at the core of the issue between us — I cannot wonder for the rest of my life if I know everything I need to know. If you’re keeping something from me. If you are _okay_. And at some point,” he shook his head, “whether or not we make it as a couple, you are going to have to accept that you are not alone anymore. You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. You _shouldn’t_.”

Happy blinked, shook her head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Toby let his head drop to the back of the couch and sighed. “Say thank you, Happy.”

Happy shrugged, unsure what he thought was so obvious and easy about this whole thing. “Thank you.”

* * *

Toby withdrew the needle from her arm and pressed a piece of gauze down hard in the crook of her elbow. “Alright, hold pressure there.”

“How long is this gonna take?”

“Few minutes,” Toby said, fiddling with the centrifuge.

“You’re sure Paige and the others don’t—”

Toby rolled his head to look at her, “Happy, please.”

Happy fell silent, fidgeted with the gauze on her arm. 

Toby paced back to her as the centrifuge continued to whir. “Can I ask you something totally premature?” A look of disbelief crossed his face. “Well, _maybe_ premature.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you thought about what you wanna…”

“Oh…no, I mean I hadn’t even gotten my head around the idea that it _might_ be…”

Toby nodded, chewed on his lip for a moment, moved her hand and applied pressure over the gauze with his own thumb. “You would never give a kid up, even in the most controlled adoption process.”

“ _No_ ,” Happy said, keeping her gaze on his hand. “Never.”

Toby returned to the centrifuge when it beeped, withdrew the serum, and distributed it in a prepared tray using a micropipette. He set a timer on his phone as he backed away from the work table and crossed to where Happy dangled her legs from Walter’s kitchen counter. “I’m trying to figure out a non-creepy way to say that I will support whatever decision…”

Happy scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, that wasn’t it, Doc.”

“Ugh,” Toby ran his hands through his hair. “I’m saying _you_ —”

“I thought this was supposed to be both of us.” 

“It is! I’m just saying…God, it’s like I have lost my ability to form coherent thought.”

“Well, I’ve never done this before, but I think that’s normal during a pregnancy test.”

“Happy, if this test is positive, and you decide you don’t want to go through with this…”

“Doc, now _you_ look _me_ in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t be heartbroken if I decided not to go through with it.”

Toby rested his hands on her knees. “I can’t. But Happy, this has _got_ to be your—”

“I get what you’re trying to say, Doc, but either this is both of us, or it’s not.” Toby nodded. “Besides, while admittedly I don’t know how the _hell_ we would…I just can’t imagine not going through with…I mean, it’s _you and me_ , Toby. Even with the way things are right now…it would be _us_ , you know? Both of us. Together. I just can’t see myself…not wanting to go through with that.”

Toby’s face went slack. “Really?” It came out as little more than a whisper.

Happy shrugged. “Think so. I mean, life-changing decision, maybe we should sleep on it if it turns out…”

“Yeah,” Toby nodded vigorously. His gaze flickered down to her lips. “You, uh, you know that whole…‘press pause’ thing we’ve got going on right now?”

Happy fought a smile. “Mmm-hmm.”

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and leaned toward her. “I’m gonna un-pause for a minute.” His lips brushed hers and the timer on his phone began to chime.

They both exhaled nervously. “I have the world’s best timing,” he muttered.

“Me, too.”

“Way too soon, Happy. OK...whoa...you ready for this?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded.

He stepped back and picked up the test tray, turning back toward her. “It’s negative.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re sure?”

Toby nodded, still staring at the tray in his hands. “Definitely. There are multiple indicators that should have popped, but only the control did.” He looked up at her, then set the tray down on the counter beside them and turned back to her, nodding to himself. “Negative,” he said softly.

Happy wondered why there was suddenly an unbidden sting in her eyes. “It’s good, right?”

“Well, it’s not like we don’t have enough on our plates right now.” He rubbed his thumbs across her legs.

She knit her brows together, nodded. “Then why do you look like…like you’d already named our non-existent kid?”

He scowled. “It wasn’t a forgone conclusion that our first kid will be named Quintis?”

She jabbed him in the ribs, but he caught her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. 

“I know this is _crazy_ , but I feel really…”

“Me too,” Toby nodded. “It’s the, uh, the safety-net effect, we…both liked the idea of a permanent connection amidst all this other uncertainty…just in case.” He leaned forward, pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “You OK?”

Happy nodded. “You?”

“Yeah. But…” he sighed. “I am no closer to solving this mystery. One last test I can try here.” He reached for the glucose meter Paige had brought back from the pharmacy and brushed alcohol across her fingertip. “Little stick.”

Happy scrunched her face up. “I wonder why I’m late, then, if not…”

“Probably stress,” Toby said pointedly as he pressed a piece of gauze over her fingertip and fiddled with the glucose meter. “It has been a hell of a stressful week, for all of us. But I would like you to follow up with your OB-GYN, to be safe.”

“Yes, Dr. Curtis.”

Toby grinned. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how much of  a turn-on it —” The glucose meter beeped and he read the display. “What the hell?”

“What?” Happy craned her neck.

Toby turned the meter toward her with an accusing glare. “Your blood sugar is dangerously low, Happy. When the hell did you eat last?”

Happy’s eyes went wide. “I don’t…lunch?”

“You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, _we_ ate lunch. You picked at your sandwich while you worked on the bugs for the case tonight. You tossed most of it.”

Happy shrugged. “Breakfast, then.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast.”

Happy furrowed her brow. “I’m sure I did. Power bar, or something.”

“Hap,” he laid his hands on her arms and rubbed up and down. “We have both spent every night here since Saturday. “We’re in the same room almost every minute of the day. You didn’t eat breakfast.” He shook his head. “You haven’t eaten much in days. God, how did I miss that?”

“Toby, don’t make this like an after-school special on anorexia. I’m not… _not_ eating, I eat when I’m hungry, I just… I guess I wasn’t hungry today.”

Toby opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. “Can we continue this argument after we get some food in you?”

“I’m still not that hungry, Doc.”

“OK, let me rephrase,” Toby crossed his arms over his chest. “Pursuant to the new team rule, where my expertise is honored on medical matters, we can either go downstairs, drink some juice and eat something, or we can go to the ER and do it their way. What’s it gonna be?”

Happy glared at him. 

“Thought so.” He extended a hand as she hopped off the counter. “Let the others fuss over you for a few minutes, and then I’ll clear them out.”

* * *

“You guys promise you’ll call if you need anything?” Paige asked again, backing out the door.

“We will, but we’ve got Walter here, what kind of help could we possibly need?” Toby said.

“The American Red Cross, the National Guard, the FBI?”

“Go.” Toby pointed out the door.

“Yeah, she definitely hates me,” Walter said as the door closed behind the rest of the team.

Toby and Happy looked at each other, then back to Walter. “Sorry, man,” Toby said. “Listen, I’ve got a grade-3 concussion and still can’t drive, a neck sprain that hurts like hell and my psyche is more scrambled than an omelet. This one here,” he hooked his thumb at Happy, who was nursing a glass of orange juice, “hasn’t eaten in days, barely sleeps, and fainted tonight. But what can we do for _you_?”

Walter scowled at him. “You’re here a lot now.”

Toby’s face was completely impassive. “You’re welcome.”

Walter inhaled long, then turned toward the stairs. “ _Happy_ , let me know if you need anything.”

Toby turned back to Happy, who was staring at her juice. “Just pound it and get it over with, Hap,” Toby said on his way to the kitchen. “It’ll hit your bloodstream quicker that way, and that’s the point, is to get your glucose up.”

Happy tipped the glass up and swallowed the remainder as Toby returned. “Good,” he said, then pulled the carton from behind his back. “For this one, you can take you time.”

“Jerk,” Happy muttered.

“Alright,” Toby ignored her, “it’s slim pickings on the food front, but we need to get some protein in you.”

“Toby,” and it startled him that she was actually whining. “I’m the drinking the damn juice, would you just lay off?”

He sat down across the table from her. “No. Happy…your glucose was so low, that in all honesty, I don’t understand how you’re able to carry on a coherent conversation, to say nothing of working full days, building surveillance devices and crawling through vents to plant them. You’re up half the night, scratching away on Sly’s board or tinkering at your workbench. You don’t get a number like that from skipping a couple of meals one day. You’ve barely eaten, in several days.”

Happy stared into her glass. “I’m just…not hungry. Or sleepy.”

“I believe you.” Toby nodded, and she wasn’t sure why he suddenly looked so sad. “Listen, relax already, it’s not like I’m making you talk about it. I’m just making you choose — regular grilled cheese or fancy grilled cheese.”

“Toby, come on, you need to be resting; you —”

“Not tonight, I don’t. I’ve been resting.”

“You sleep a lot,” she said, sounding small. “And you’re quiet. For you anyway. You said you needed to focus on what was happening with you, so don’t go all —”

“I’m sleeping because I had a grade-3 concussion, and that’s what they do. The more I sleep, the faster and better I’ll heal. No more heroics for me on that front. And yeah, I’ve been…reflective. Trying to get my head around this thing. But I’m not an invalid, Happy. I can have an acute stress reaction and still feed you juice and a grilled cheese sandwich. You know how good I am at multitasking.”

Happy dropped her eyes again. “Fancy.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Fancy grilled cheese.”

* * *

“Come on, come on, the pickles were the hard part, we’ve gotta have dijon mustard in here somewhere…aha!” He proudly produced a jar from the back of the fridge. “We are go on fancy grilled cheese.” He started rummaging in the cabinets. “Hey, Ralphie’s got some of that Goober Grape stuff you like, would you rather have PB&J? That’s still good protein.”

Happy shook her head as she pushed herself up onto the kitchen table. “Grilled cheese. You make the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

Toby dropped the spatula. “OK,” he cocked his head at her. “Curtis Method pro tip — when you think things like that, say them. That…” he took two steps to close the distance between them. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

Happy made a face. “Because you didn’t know you made good grilled cheese?”

“I am the grilled cheese _master_ ,” Toby said, flipping the sandwich. “But I didn’t know you thought they anything special.”

“I eat them every time you make them,” Happy said.

“But I didn’t know that,” he smiled. “If I’d known that I’d have made them for you more often.”

“In that case, I like your brownies.”

“I _do_ make great brownies.”

“I also…like that thing you do with your tongue where you—”

“Oh, I know,” he laughed, and she was relieved. “You’re always plenty vocal about that.” He turned away from the stove and leaned back against the counter. “God, I’m good at such a wide range of things.”

“Sadly, humility’s not one of them.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you to call it a night after you eat this?”

“Not sleepy, Doc.”

“You said in the van you were tired.”

“Tired, but not sleepy.” And she saw it again, that tiny change in facial expression.

“Fine,” he said, the motioned toward the couch. “But no work for you tonight. Go flip the monitor around and pick something out for us to watch while I finish this.”

“You don’t have to babysit me.”

“No,” he said. “But I do have to watch whatever you’re watching, because you’ll be watching it where I usually sleep.”

* * *

Happy dozed off early in the movie. “Tired, but not sleepy, my ass,” he whispered to himself as he shut off the film. He pulled two of his books on trauma psychology from his shelves and settled at the other end of the couch.

He was still reading 90 minutes later when Happy scared the bejesus out of him. “Stop!” she wailed. “Collins, stop!”

“Happy,” he clambered to the other end of the couch. “Happy, wake up. Happy,” he shook her shoulder, harder than he should have had to. “Happy, wake up.” She sat up with a start, eyes traveling the room. When they fell on him, she exhaled, then withdrew, tucking her legs under her. “You’re OK, Hap,” he laid a hand on her knee. “You’re good.”

She bit her bottom lip, breathing heavily. 

“Come on, talk to me.”

“Why?” she said tonelessly.

He breathed out. “Just wanna make sure you’re OK.”

She raised her eyebrows, cocked her head. “Sure,” came the numb response. “ _I_ was OK the entire time.”

“Happy?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna stop being so damn stubborn and come here already?”

Happy took another breath. “I’m OK.”

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Come here.”

The last of her resolve crumbled and she launched herself at him. He caught her, held her against his chest. She’d cried more in the previous week than he’d ever seen her cry, but she didn’t shed a tear this time. 

“You remember what happened?” Toby asked.

“Stupid nightmare,” she said, and he nodded, rubbing comforting circles across her back. 

“What can I do, Hap?”

“As long as we’re saying the things we think?”

“Yeah?”

“I know why you did it. And we wouldn’t have found you in time if you hadn’t. But if you can avoid it, could you please never say your last goodbyes to me, ever again?”

Toby sighed, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I couldn’t think of another reason he’d let me talk to you guys; I’m so sorry."

“But you meant it.”

Toby hesitated before answering honestly. “Yeah.”

“You wanted to be sure you said it, just in case.”

“Yeah.”

She tightened her grip on him a little.

“We can break up if we have to,” Happy said. “That’s one thing. But you die on me…you even come close to dying on me, and I’ll kill you myself. You're _not_ saying goodbye to me, Doc. Don't _ever_ do that again.”


	13. My Way Back to You, Your Way Back to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘i’m finding my way back to you, and everything i used to be. and waiting is all that i can do until you find your way back to me.’ - michelle branch, ‘find your way back’
> 
> Curtis Method, Rule 14: You were teammates first, then friends. Never stop being those things.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Toby continues to work through the aftermath of the kidnapping, while Happy struggles with issues of her own. And in the meantime, the cases -- and the danger -- keep coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XXL chapter alert! :) And a little something this time around for you Waige fans. Hope you enjoy!

******‘i’m finding my way back to you, and everything i used to be. and waiting is all that i can do until you find your way back to me.’ - michelle branch, ‘find your way back’**

* * *

 

_Curtis Method, Rule 14: You were teammates first, then friends. Never stop being those things._

* * *

Happy opened her eyes to find herself curled up under a blanket in one corner of the couch as early morning light streamed into a quiet garage. She smiled reflexively. She had always loved quiet mornings here.

A few long blinks later, her bleary vision focused on a muffin on the coffee table beside a folded piece of paper. She propped herself up on one elbow as she reached for the note.

_Happy’s To-Do List:_

_1\. Eat favorite muffin very thoughtfully provided by secret admirer._

Happy rolled her eyes. “Crazy shrink.”

_1b. Shut up, stop rolling your eyes and eat the damn muffin._

This time, she couldn’t help but grin.

_2\. Call OB-GYN for followup as ordered by Harvard-trained physician._

_3\. Think of something nice to do for the author of this note._

_Some errands this morning._

_— The Muffin Fairy_

* * *

Toby was brushing his teeth in his apartment when his phone buzzed to life on the sink.  He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. She was only 10 minutes ahead of his predicted time.

“Dr. Tobias M. Curtis,” he sang.

“Are you out delivering muffins all over town?”

He smiled. “The muffin fairy works exclusively for you, Hap. Did you eat?”

“Yes. God, you’re clingy. What kind of errands do you have when the sun’s barely up?”

“Now who’s clingy? I came back to my place to get cleaned up — I’ve got the follow-up for the concussion at 8.”

Happy’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t believe it’s already been a week.”

“Since the injury, not the diagnosis,” he wiped his face with a towel and ran a comb through his hair. “At any rate, he’s gonna discharge me. I was so sure, I took the Monte Carlo this morning.”

“You drove? That’s against orders, Toby.”

“ _Doctor_ , Happy. Trust me, I’m clear. That’s what he’ll say.”

“Hope so. See you when you get back.”

“Call your —” The call disconnected. “OB-GYN,” he sighed. “Stubborn ass.” He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the floss, replaying the conversation backward in his head, as was his custom. He’d come to believe years ago that reviewing a conversation from end to beginning improved his analysis, made him more likely to catch any noteworthy subtleties he may have missed the first time around. As he pulled a piece of floss from the box, he was thinking that her spirits seemed noticeably higher than the night before, her personality much closer to baseline. Then the smell of the mint-flavored floss hit him, right around the same time he remembered himself saying that the injury had occurred a week ago, and that was more than enough for his brain. A week ago this morning. Almost exactly a week ago at this moment he was coming to in that warehouse…

He swore as he dropped the floss like it had burned him, and the next thing he knew, he was heaving over the toilet, and it was several minutes later.

* * *

“You seem better rested,” Bissell said.

“I am,” Toby nodded. “I followed care orders to the letter. And it worked, too, because the neurologist discharged me from his care less than an hour ago.” He moved his hand through the air horizontally. “Flying colors.”

Bissell smiled. “It’s important that you celebrate these milestones. They’re victories; you know that.”

“You’re telling me,” he let his head drop to the back of the sofa with only the tiniest flinch. “Monte and I have been riding our own personal victory lap around downtown this morning.”

“Who’s Monte?”

“I drive a 1979 Monte Carlo convertible.”

Bissell laughed, long and loud. “Oh, Toby. Of course you do. Personality like yours wouldn’t be caught dead in a Civic.”

“That car and me, Michelle, we understand each other. You go a few days and you start to miss the feeling of the wind in your — ”

“Hat?”

Toby grinned. “Something like that.”

“Seems like the neck pain’s still not good, though.”

“I’ll tell you what’s not good, and it’s Happy,” Toby said, shook his head in silent rebuke. “I did what we discussed. We’ve backed off of the romantic relationship. But she’s not eating, she’s barely sleeping.”

Bissell frowned. “Over the relationship?”

Toby shook his head. “She’s having night terrors about the thing. The hostage situation.”

“Good ownership of the word,” Bissell said. “I’m sorry to hear that Happy is struggling. I can give her a referral if she likes.”

Toby smoothed his jeans over his knee. “I think she’s digging herself into a hole over this thing.”

“Well, she cares about you very deeply. What she witnessed would be disturbing under any circumstances, to say nothing of seeing it happen to someone you care about.”

Toby shook his head. “There seems to be an awful lot of transference of guilt. She’s said more than once that if I hadn’t been out getting that ring, none of this would have happened. She’s taken to apologizing at least once a day, telling me she loves me at least once a day, and I…appreciate that, I just…don’t know what to do with it, exactly.”

“Isn’t the point of stepping back from the relationship _not_ to do anything with it just yet?”

“Well, she’s…she’s employing a…method. She’s redoubling her efforts where I’m concerned. It’s early stages yet, but it’s…I’m not used to this. It’s throwing me. In a good way, I think, but it’s throwing me.”

“Mmm,” Bissell said, scratching out a quick note on her pad. Toby rolled his eyes. So, they’d be coming back to _that_ sooner or later. “Tell her she’s welcome to call me if she’d like a referral for someone to speak with. Say more about the neck injury.”

Toby squinted. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“You shut me down.”

“I redirected.”

“And why did you feel I was misdirected?”

“Because you’re talking about Happy. Happy’s reaction to the kidnapping and hostage situation. Your relationship status with Happy.”

“And?”

“And I’m not treating Happy. We can talk about all of this later in your course of treatment, if you like, but right now, I want to keep our conversations as focused as possible on the primary trauma.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Toby said. “But this thing with Happy is what’s taking up a lot of real estate in my frontal lobe this morning.”

Bissell tapped her pen against her lip. “Tell you what. I’ll spend this session listening to you talk about your concerns with Happy,” she swung the pen across the seating area. “If you talk about them from the club chair.”

Toby exhaled long, then shrugged. “The neck is a sprain. It’ll take a few weeks.”

Bissell sighed, genuinely sympathetic. “That bad, huh?”

Toby opened his mouth to respond, then dropped his eyes. He shut his mouth and laced his fingers together.

“Can you sit in any kind of chair without it activating the trigger?”

Toby pressed his lips together, and even with her experience, Bissell found herself stunned at his sudden change of demeanor. He’d begun the session calm, somewhat upbeat. Now, he looked utterly defeated. “My desk chair hasn’t been a problem. Hardback, like kitchen chairs, seem to bug me a little, but I’m fine if I flip the chair around.”

“What happens if you try to stay with it?”

“I haven’t yet.”

“Can you describe the sensation when you —”

“It’s just, ah…dread. Not panic exactly, but…my instincts scream at me. I think, if I stayed with it, it would build into panic.”

“When did you first start to notice this reaction?”  
“Day or two after.”

“It’s most likely happening because—”

“For God’s sake,” Toby snapped. “I _know_ why it’s happening. You kidnap a person and they spend 12 hours tied to a chair, subject them to mindfuck after mindfuck, and then try to kill them in that sick…puzzle he put together…I associate the position with powerlessness, helplessness, fear and danger. It’s one thing to understand it, it’s another to experience it.”

“It can be beaten, Toby, you know that. In a matter of weeks, the worst of this will be behind you, if you come at it full force.”

Toby hauled himself off the couch, paced to the nearest window. 

“There are new symptoms. You’re frustrated because you feel like you’re losing ground.” In response, Toby shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nightmares?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Probably the concussion. I wouldn’t be surprised if they surface as you heal. Trouble concentrating?”

Toby shook his head. “None.”

“Hypervigilance, mood swings?”

“Floss.”

“What?”

“I’ll go hours, the better part of a day, and I’ll be fine. Absolutely fine. This morning, I was standing at my bathroom sink and I pulled the floss out of my medicine cabinet…in that moment, it was literally the furthest thing from my mind. The next thing I knew, I was puking my guts out.”

Bissell shook her head and widened her eyes. “I saw photos of the scene taken by the FBI. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to floss again.”

Toby shook his head. “Nightmares are one thing. The subconscious does what it does. Depression, anxiety, mood swings — those are no picnic, but I think I could persevere.” He turned back to her and sat on the windowsill. “But to be wide awake, to be going about your life and some trigger you didn’t even know you had causes you to lose control…” He sighed. “That’s unsettling as hell.”

“You’re equating it with weakness,” Bissell said. “It’s not weakness, Toby. It’s the same as any other symptom. Your IQ points can’t get you out of this any quicker. Try to be patient with it.”

Toby puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled, nodded. Then his phone buzzed. He turned the screen toward her. “Looks like we’re out of time for this session.”

“Duty calls?”

“Duty calls.”

“I’m going to work up a treatment plan for the triggers, and we’ll talk about it next time,” Bissell stood.

Toby nodded. “OK.”

“Go,” she motioned over her shoulder. “And stay _present_ , Toby. Don’t be in your head when you need to be in the work.”

“Got it.”

* * *

They all really could have stood to go a while without dealing with another hostage situation.

Homeland had tasked them with tracking a group of cyberterrorists who were intent on releasing a virus that would shut down the water and power grids on the entire West Coast. Walter and Sly had done plenty of damage in the early hours of the case, succeeding not only in delaying the cyberterrorists, but making them angry. They’d begun a dialogue through communications embedded in the coding language, and the more they interacted, the more Walter managed to piss them off.

Despite the success of their coding battles, Walter and Sylvester’s work had been little more than a delay tactic, buying them time to track down the empty office building where the cyberterrorists had set up shop. The company had shut down weeks ago, and with no new tenant yet, the group had taken advantage of the space and its high-speed wiring.

Toby’s still not sure exactly how it happened. The team was in a room on the ground floor filled with cubicles, and Walter and Sly were analyzing power use by room to narrow down the terrorists’ location in the building, and then Paige cried out. They all spun to see two of them standing in a door by the far wall, one with his gun aimed at the team, the other with his gun pressed tightly against Paige’s head.

Toby heard himself launch immediately into negotiation, attempting to defuse the situation, but it did nothing but agitate them, and they tossed some kind of homemade flash grenade into the room. By the time everyone began to climb out of the spots where they took cover, the two had disappeared deeper into the building, taking Paige with them. 

Walter had remained calm, initially, despite his pleas when they took her. They could still hear and talk to her through her com, so they knew she was OK, and she’d done a good job of slipping in clues to her location. But they’d found the com in a matter of minutes, and they made sure the team heard that their displeasure with her deception before they crushed the device. That’s when Walter went into hyperdrive.

They started toying with him then, setting up attacks on the network that turned out to be red herrings. “They’re buying time,” Sylvester had said. “Distracting us while they move her, while they set up their real endgame. But if we don’t counterattack, and one of these happens to be the real virus, it’s lights out.”

Tim had begun searching the building on foot, while Cabe held the team secure, but the sheer size of the building branded that a losing battle. 

More than two hours later, the cyberterrorists sent them a link. When Sylvester opened it, the team gathered around the monitors to see three live video feeds. Two were of laptops in different locations set to release the virus — with small explosive charges on timers attached to destroy the computer and the code afterward — meaning that engineering a solution for the virus would be next to impossible.

The third explosive charge was secured to Paige. 

In the end, it had been Tim who’d managed to talk some sense into Walter, who’d suggested the divide and conquer plan that sent Tim with Sylvester to hack one computer, Walter with Cabe to hack the other, and Toby and Happy were tasked with finding Paige and getting her out of this alive.

Yeah, Toby thought to himself as he charged up the stairs behind Happy to her projected location for Paige, they really could have stood to go a while without another damn hostage situation.

“Down to two and a half minutes!” he said as they emerged from the stairs.

“I’m almost sure it’s this floor,” she ran to the nearest window to get her external bearings. “Gimme the tablet.”

Toby handed over the video feed of Paige, and Happy checked the view out the windows in front of them with the windows in the video feed. “OK, elevation looks right, but the landmarks are off. It’s east, way east. Let’s book it.” She pushed the tablet against Toby’s chest. “She is _not_ good.”

“Yeah, she’s coming apart,” Toby said, glancing down at the tablet while trying to keep up with Happy’s dead run down the corridor. “Happy, be careful, we don’t know they don’t still have somebody with her.”

“We don’t have time to be careful,” she slowed down and stuck her head in another door to check the landmarks.

“What the hell are you doing, we’re at 122 seconds!?!” Walter’s voice vibrated through the coms. “You’re cutting it too close!”

“You’re gonna be eatin’ that tone in 122 seconds, when Paige is fine and the damn lights are out in three states,” Toby said. “Do your part, Walter; we’ve got her.”

“Here!” Happy called. Toby was in the door half a step behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief when they found the room empty, except for a bomb, which was strapped to Paige, who was strapped to a chair and now sobbing hysterically. “Toby, kill that laptop,” Happy gestured to the machine that had been live-streaming the video, as she pulled out her tools and made a beeline for the bomb on Paige’s torso, “but disable the wireless first, just in case the virus is on it.”

Toby dispatched of the machine quickly and approached Paige. Happy was already on her knees examining the bomb. Toby leaned forward, gently pulled the gag from between her teeth. “OK,” he placed a comforting hand on the side of her head. “You’re OK for now, so just breathe for me.”

Paige heaved two heavy breaths. “Get me outta this.” She pulled on her hands, which were secured behind her.

“Not yet,” Happy said, never taking her eyes off the bomb, and Toby nodded.

“Toby, Happy, status update. _Now._ ” Walter’s voice came through the coms.

“We found her,” Toby said. “She’s OK; Happy’s working on the…other issue.”

“Happy, what’s the hold up?” 

“Busy now,” Happy ground out as she gingerly picked through the wires.

“Walt, we’re actually _all_ a little busy here now,” Toby said. Walter began a rebuke, but Toby heard Cabe warn him not to worsen the situation. 

“OK, we’re all secure here. Sylvester, Tim?” Walter asked.

“Clear,” Sylvester answered.

“Happy, Toby?”

“Stand by,” Toby said, then pulled his com out of his ear, and removed Happy’s as well.

“Thank you; he wasn’t helping,” Happy muttered.

Paige jerked hard on the bindings around her wrists. “Toby, get me out of this.”

“Not yet, Doc,” Happy said.

“Paige, listen to me a sec, as soon as Happy has this thing disarmed, we’ll cut you out.”

Paige shook her head. “Now. I’ll slide out of the vest. I can do it.”

“You can’t slide out of the vest, the wires wrap around all sides,” Happy said as she continued to explore the maze of wires on the front of the vest. “You shouldn’t become a cyberterrorist unless you know your way around electronics.”

“What she means is that she’s going to disarm it and then we’ll cut you out of the vest _and_ the chair,” Toby tried to draw Paige’s gaze away from Happy’s work on the bomb. “Until then, we need you to stay still so Happy can work.”

“I’ll stay still,” Paige tugged hard again on her hands. “Just cut me —”

“Paige, you gotta stop, you’re banging the hell out of your wrists,” Toby knelt by the arm of the chair. “We can’t cut you out because you’re a bit hysterical,” he placed a comforting hand on top of her head, “and you’re not gonna be able to hold still when we cut you loose.” He held up his knife. “We’re seconds away, OK? Happy, how ya comin’? She needs out of this, now.”

“This thing is full of collapsible circuits, if I cut the wrong wire, it’ll fire and nobody wants that,” Happy said, and Paige’s tears began anew. “I’m close, just keep her calm, and try to stop her from crying on me and the bomb.”

“OK,” Toby took Paige’s head in his hands and rubbed his thumb absentmindedly beneath the cut on her cheek. “OK, do this for me, say ‘I’m going home tonight.’”

Paige fixed him with a glare.

Toby rolled his hand. “It’s an affirmation, it serves to diminish hysteria by stating commitment and intent, engages the conscious thought process and stabilizes the subconscious. ‘I’m going home tonight.’ Say it.”

Paige breathed heavily through her tears. “I-oweh-oh-ooh-ite?”

“OK, that wasn’t English. What was that, Dolphin? Try saying more than just just the vowel sounds. ‘I’m going home tonight.’”

“I’m going ho-home tonight,” Paige breathed.

“‘I’m going home to Ralph tonight.’ Happy, time.”

“I’m close,” Happy said.

Paige nodded jerkily. “I’m going home to Ralph tonight.”

“‘I’m going home to Ralph tonight.’”

She bit down on her bloodied lip momentarily, and her voice became stronger, steadier. “I’m going home to Ralph tonight.”

“I’ve got it,” Happy said. “I think. Doc, we have to be here. You don’t, get down the hall before I cut this.”

Toby shook his head, eyes still on Paige. “We’re all going home tonight. Cut it, Happy.”

Paige closed her eyes. “I’m going home to Ralph to—”

The bomb beeped, then fell silent. They all dissolved into giggles. Happy removed the explosive from the device, then cut it from around Paige and together, she and Toby made quick work of cutting Paige from the chair. Paige melted out of the chair and into Toby’s arms.

“You’re all right,” Toby rocked her back and forth. “Boy, Walter’s not here, I finally get the ‘thank you’ hug. Oh, my God, Walter. Happy,” Toby fished the coms out of his pocket. “You gotta  tell him she’s OK.” 

Happy tucked the com in her ear and spoke to Walter, while she and Toby began to help Paige down the stairs.

“Hey,” Toby said. “You gotta say it. Like you mean it, this time.”

Despite her split lip, Paige managed a little smile. “I’m going home to Ralph tonight.”

* * *

Paige dangled her feet idly from the back bumper of the ambulance while Toby checked her over. “Do you remember how many blows to the head you took?”

“Just the one on the cheek. He was pissed when he found the com,” Paige said. “The bloody lip happened in the struggle when they took me.”

“I don’t think the laceration on the cheek will need stitches. It will probably do just fine with butterfly bandages,” Toby gently probed the area around the cut. “But there’s a lot of swelling. Once the bruising sets in, it’s going to be gruesome for a few days.”

“That sounds fun.”

Happy put her finger to her ear. “Tim and Sly have Walt and Cabe, they’re two minutes away.”

Toby nodded. “It won’t hurt to wait another few minutes to transport.”

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Paige asked.

“Oh, look who’s not in favor of the new rule, all of a sudden,” Toby spread his hands. “That left wrist needs X-rays. It may just be a bad sprain, but we’ll need X-rays to know for sure, and I can’t do that at the garage. The doctor has spoken; you’re going. Long live the new rule.”

“Excuse me,” Toby and Happy turned to see the bomb squad standing behind them. “Incident commander said you three knew where the bomb was.”

“Fourth floor, south corridor, two rooms from the east wall,” Happy said. “But it’s not a bomb anymore, not without this,” she pulled the explosive from her pocket and dropped it in the officer’s outstretched hand.

He examined the explosive. “You defused it yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“You a bomb tech?”

“Nah,” Happy shook her head. “I’m a mechanic.”

The officer grinned. “That’s pretty badass, ma’am.”

Happy shrugged, but couldn’t hide her grin. 

“Badass is what she does,” Toby said from behind her.

“I’ll bet,” the officer said, still smiling at Happy.

Toby drew himself to his full height. “I ought to know. I’m her boyfriend.”

Happy spun to give him a death glare. The officer cleared his throat. “Floor four, south corridor, two doors from the east wall. Let’s move.” The bomb squad retreated.

“Technically,” Toby said softly to the officer’s retreating back, “we’re pressing pause right now, but…oh, I don’t think he can hear me.”

Happy clenched her jaw. “You’re insane. Hey, Paige, looks like you’ve got visitors.”

Walter bailed out of the van before it was even at a full stop, but the others were hot on his heels. “Paige!” he yelled, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Toby steadied Paige as she stood to meet Walter, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he closed the distance between them. “Are you OK?” She nodded in his arms. “Are you hurt?” He pivoted them both so he was facing Toby. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s fine,” Toby comforted. “She’s kinda banged up, so she needs to go get checked out, but she’s good.”

“She’s good?” Walter eased her away from him a few inches. “You’re good? Whoa,” he turned her face to examine the cut on her cheek.

“It’s fine, Walt,” Toby said.

“I’m good,” Paige said, and Walter found his gaze drawn to hers. The next thing he knew he was already kissing her. He tore his mouth from hers. “Whoa. Paige, I’m sorry. I’m so—”

Paige grabbed the front of his shirt with her good hand and pulled him back to her. “What are you apologizing for, Walter? _I_ kissed _you_. Here…” she smiled, pulled his face to hers. “I’ll show you.”

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief. Toby popped Happy on the shoulder with his fist. She looked away from Paige and Walter, grinning and shaking her head. 

After a while, Cabe cleared his throat. “Kid, we’re happy as hell to see you, but maybe you ought to go get—”

“Oh, God,” Walter pulled away from Paige. “What am I doing, you need to get…” He started to step into the ambulance. “No, Toby, you should ride…” He stepped back down. “And I’ll get a ride with…” He began turning in awkward partial circles.

“OK, Walter, you’ve gone to the zoo,” Toby grinned. “You get into the ambulance, the paramedics can take care of Paige until they get to the hospital, the rest of us will meet you there.”

“No, wait,” Paige said as the paramedics settled her on the stretcher in the ambulance. “What time is it? Someone needs to get Ralph.”

“Doc and I will get him,” Happy said.

“I wanna splint that left wrist for transport,” Toby called to the paramedic. “And be sure somebody sees to the contusions and abrasions on both wrists.”

Walter laid a hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Thanks, Pal.”

“Listen to me,” Toby laid a hand on his arm. “ _Don’t_ screw up.”

Walter nodded and climbed into the ambulance.

Toby watched the ambulance go, then noticed Tim doing the same from a few feet away. Tim looked at him. “It’s not awkward,” Toby said. “It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

Tim shrugged. “No. I mean, why should it be?”

Toby nodded as silence stretched between them. “Wanna pretend it never happened?”

“Hell, yes,” Tim said. They walked in opposite directions without another word.

* * *

“OK,” Toby hung up the phone and crossed Paige’s condo. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Video game off, buddy,” Happy called from the kitchen.

Ralph saved the game and set down the controller. 

“Let me hear it again, Ralphie-Boy,” Toby dropped onto the couch.

“Mom hurt her wrist and her face on the case, but she’s OK. You checked her out and so did the doctors at the ER.”

“She’s gonna be better than OK,” Toby said. “The ER will have given her medication for her wrist, so she’s probably gonna be pretty goofy when she gets here, but she’ll be back to her old self in the morning. In the meantime…”

“In the meantime,” Ralph said, “I should give her a hug and then behave myself and not be a pip until she feels better. And help her out because her wrist is going to hurt for a while.”

“Perfection,” Toby high-fived him. “You have any questions about what’s going on, you can ask me. Send me a text, whatever. Just let your mom focus on feeling better for now.”

“OK. Oh, and I have to remind Walter not to be a jackass.

Toby deflated. “Don’t say ass,” he whined. “Your mother’s gonna kill me.”

Ralph arched and eyebrow, looking far too much like Paige. “I am not overly concerned with that.”

The bell rang. “Ralph,” Happy emerged from the kitchen and Toby headed for the door. “Go brush your teeth. Now.”

“Hi!” Paige said, leaning heavily on Walter when Toby opened the door. She giggled. “I don’t have a key.”

Toby’s eyes went wide. “Because you gave it to me and Happy.”

“Right!” she stumbled through the door, patting Toby on the arm. “That’s right.”

Toby caught her by the elbows. “You’re higher than a kite, project manager.”

“No, I’m not,” Paige said indignantly. “I’m fine, now that my wrist doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“What did they give you at the ER to make your wrist not hurt anymore?”

“Demerol,” she said sunnily. 

“Yeah,” Toby nodded. “You’re feeling it.”

Walter nodded behind her. 

“If you guys are OK,” Cabe said from the hallway. “I’ll take Sylvester and Tim home.”

“Feel better, Paige,” Sylvester said, then accepted Paige’s hug happily. “I’m so glad you’re OK.”

“Me, too!” Paige said. “Tim,” she wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, God, I am _so_ sorry.”

Tim hugged her back gently. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” He met Walter’s eyes over her shoulder. “If you need anything,” he said, and Walter nodded.

“Kid,” Cabe pressed a fatherly kiss into Paige’s hair. “You rest up, and let you us know if you need anything. You staying, Walter?”

Walter nodded, then Cabe followed Sly and Tim down the stairs.

Ralph’s footsteps came bounding down the hall. “OK,” Toby whispered. “Try and pull it together for two minutes.” Paige blinked and opened her eyes bizarrely wide.

“Hi, Mom,” Ralph said, wrapping his arms around her waist, surprisingly gently. “Are you OK?”

“I am perfect, now, sweetheart, thank you,” Paige bent over and kissed the top of his head. “You should be in bed.”

“We let him wait up for you since it was Friday night,” Happy said from the hallway. “But now,” she leveled her gaze at Ralph, “he is going to bed.”

“Night, Mom!” he called as he bounded back across the condo. 

“Did you eat something?” Paige called after him.

“Chocolate milk and chocolate Pop-Tarts!” Ralph shouted as he ran for his room.

Paige gaped at Happy, who shrugged. “He said he wanted a dinner with a theme.”

“The theme, by the way, was unhealthy,” Toby said.

Paige took a step forward, only to stumble into Happy’s arms. “That, Happy, is _so_ creative! Good job!”

Happy’s eyes went wide.

“She’s a little high right now,” Toby supplied by way of explanation.

* * *

“She’s been like this for more than an hour,” Walter said as he walked Toby and Happy to the door.

“She’ll be like this until she wakes up tomorrow,” Toby yawned. “Medical science doesn’t yet know how to dull pain without dulling everything else. It’s for the best, anyway, Walter, it’s also taking the edge off her emotions, and those two things together will allow her to get some sleep tonight.”

Walter nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if I know…”

“Just use your critical thinking skills, and ask her,” Toby said. “She’ll tell you. Just don’t be a pain in her ass, most importantly. And if Ralph says anything like that to you, it’s entirely coincidental.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll hold down the fort at the garage for the night.”

“Or, you know, you could go crazy, sleep at your own apartments.”

“Ugh, Walter, that’s _so_ predictable,” Toby shrugged into his jacket.

“If you need anything, though, Walt,” Happy said.

“Will do.”

Toby followed Happy into the hall, then turned in the doorway. “Hey. I’m happy for you, you know?”

Walter smiled, shrugged. “There’s still plenty of time for me to screw it up.”

“By the way, sex is contraindicated for tonight, but if she’s insistent on some kind of physical…debauchery, might I suggest you engage in something,” he laid his hands flat on the his chest, “we medical professionals call ‘hand stuff.’”

Happy yanked Toby out of the doorway by his jacket collar and Walter slammed the door without another word.

* * *

Happy descended the steps from the loft in her pajamas, and it felt better than she wanted to admit be freshly showered and comfortable.

“I have taken the shower that you demanded, and I am still not sleepy,” she grumbled for show.

“It’ll help,” Toby said. “When sleep evades you, it’s important to go through your nighttime rituals to ready the mind for sleep. Made you a PB&J.”

“Oh,” Happy stopped in front of the plate on the cafeteria table. “I wish you’d asked me; I’m not hungry.”

“Have you eaten since the muffin this morning?”

“We were legitimately saving the West Coast, Toby.”

“Not an accusation, just a question.” Toby shrugged. “Will you try, please?”

Happy sat on the stool and tore the sandwich into bite-sized pieces. 

“This might also help,” he tossed a wad of cloth at her. “I packed some things at my apartment this morning, I thought you might want that.”

Happy unfolded the item. “Your sweatshirt.”

Toby grinned. “My girl likes to wear my clothes sometimes.”

“Your girl?”

“Woman?” Toby squeaked.

“I noticed when you were talking to that bomb squad guy today, I was your woman even with the pause button in the mix.”

Toby shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

Happy held his gaze just long enough to make him sweat, then quirked a corner of her mouth at him and popped another bite of sandwich into her mouth.

Toby nodded, “OK, then. My girl likes to wear my clothes sometimes. And it’s kinda sexy.”

Happy gave him a full-wattage grin then. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I sleep here now because you sleep here now. But why do you sleep here now?”

“Oh.” 

“If I’m, like, prying…or something…”

“No,” Toby said. “I just…I had to think about it for a second. I mean, it’s not like I love the idea of an empty apartment.”

Happy dropped her eyes. “Right.”

“But also,” Toby said. “I don’t want to gamble.”

Happy raised her eyes again. “You want to gamble?”

“Not actively, at least not so far,” Toby said. “But I’m an addict. There is always going to be the potential for me to want to gamble. Stress, loss of control, loneliness, all of that has the potential to trigger those behaviors. Without even consciously thinking about it, I started staying here because there’s accountability. Walter will know if I sneak off at night, and he’ll know why. It was an easy way to give myself a failsafe, just in case.”

Happy chewed on her bottom lip. “Toby,” she said. “I’m not sure I have the right to continue to expect that of you considering what I —”

Toby laughed. “I think my narcissism is rubbing off on you. I quit for you, Happy, but I have found over the last few months that I like it. Far more than I ever thought possible. I like having money in the bank. I like paying my debts off at an unprecedented rate. I like waking up next to you instead of in some alley behind a casino, and I like not hating myself after a night of stupid decisions. I like…sobriety. And I want to keep it. Anyway, a promise is a promise.” He tossed her the remote. “You should pick something out to watch.”

Happy took the remote and settled in on the couch. 

“Hey, Hap?”

“Hmm?”

Why do you sleep here now because I sleep here now?”

Happy shook her head. “I don’t know if I have a good answer for that, Toby.”

Toby nodded. “You think in images. I think in words. That’s one of the reasons it’s so much easier for me to give voice to thought. Just…try? Usually your gut reaction is close to accurate.”

Happy raised her eyebrows. “It’s…” she breathed out. “I don’t know.”

Toby nodded, turned his attention back to the screen. “OK.”

She let the idea roll around in her head another few seconds before she spoke again. “When you were missing,” she said, staring at the movie, “we were doing everything we knew to do, trying everything we could think of, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t going to see you again.  Since then, I just…I guess I don’t want to be where you’re not.” She rolled her eyes. “If I was going to use passable grammar, I guess I should say, “I don’t want to be without you.” She furrowed her brow. “Does that make any sense?”

Toby nodded, stunned. “Makes sense,” he said.

She nodded. “Good.”

“That answer was better than mine. I want to change my answer to that, too.”

Happy rolled her eyes. “You can’t change your answer to that.”

“I have to change my answer. My answer was kinda narcissistic.”

“What else is new?”

Toby exhaled. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Happy nodded, turning her attention back to the movie. “I’m your pause-button girl.”


	14. Fair Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘love has its critics, but they never keep many friends. it’s all right, this could be a rough night. so hold tight, this is not a fair fight.’ - the fray, ‘fair fight’
> 
> Curtis Method, Rule 3: Be prepared to be rejected.
> 
>  
> 
> Toby and Happy continue to wrestle individually with the emotional aftereffects of the kidnapping, and have their first discussion since the weekend of the kidnapping about what's happened between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, schedules being what they are, I'm writing this post-finale AU concurrent with the new revelations of canon. Despite the fact that I chose a different husband in this fic, several aspects of the two stories are similar or overlapping. On the one hand, I'm delighted at the similarities, but on the other, it's frustrating because there are scenes in the fic that are reminiscent of things that happened in canon. For the record, I have had this fic mapped out in detail for months, and I will not change that mapping based on anything that is happening in canon now. When you see something reminiscent of S3 canon, it is entirely coincidental. In this chapter, that includes the last scene, which I've had planned and largely written for months.
> 
> There's only one exception to this, and it's a minor fun detail in a future chapter that I borrowed from the earliest S3 spoilers, and I'll identify it when we get there. In the meantime, other similarities fall under the great minds thing alike department. ;)
> 
> Potential Trigger Warning: We have been exploring themes of post-traumatic emotional disturbance the last few chapters, and this chapter discusses in detail a post-traumatic emotional response. I don't want to spoil anyone, so if reading about this kind of thing is a potential trigger for you, message me on Tumblr (@scribeshan) and I'm happy to tell you in more detail. It's nothing more graphic than what we saw in the finale, I just don't want to catch anyone off-guard.

**Chapter 14: Fair Fight**

**‘love has its critics, but they never keep many friends. it’s all right, this could be a rough night. so hold tight, this is not a fair fight.’ - the fray, ‘fair fight’**

_Curtis Method, Rule 3: Be prepared to be rejected._

* * *

 

The wind was coming in gusts outside the garage. The tree boughs bent under the pressure, creating continuous background music for the creaks and groans of the building as the wind whipped into its face. Toby stirred restlessly at his end of the couch, but Happy didn’t notice. She was at the other end, knees drawn to her chest, popping her knuckles as she watched the shadows projected on the darkened common area of the garage. 

The streetlight in the alley filtered through the colored glass to cast the room in an eerie yellow-green glow. Perpendicular shadows cast by the panes intersected with the bouncing shadows of the utility lines running to the building, tangling together into a ghost of Collins's web that taunted Happy. She continued to stare into it, refusing to give in to the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but Toby made some noise at the other end of the couch, and when she looked at him, his face was criss-crossed by the shadows and she felt her throat tighten. She fought with herself for a moment, telling herself it was superstitious nonsense, that he was clearly fine, but the feeling in her stomach won out, and she gingerly leaned over him, rested her fingertips on the side of his face for a moment.

He was warm from sleep, not the clammy cold he’d been in the warehouse, and when she brushed her fingers across his skin he made a tiny unconscious noise of contentment, and she smiled. She pulled her fingers back and swore under her breath as she hauled herself off the couch. If she was going to be up in the middle of the night, she may as well stop staring down things that weren’t there and get something done.

* * *

 

The first time Toby had a nightmare about the job, it was on the plane after the Crimson case in Vegas. He and Walter had had a blast at the poker tables, and he’d won airfare and then some easily, and repaired the discord between them in the process. They grabbed an early morning flight back to L.A. and were both asleep before wheels up. 

It was on the flight that his subconscious began to process the things he’d experienced the night before. He’d dealt with some scary bookies and goons in his time, had been roughed up on occasion, but those guys scared you, they didn’t kill you. Dead men don’t pay their debts. But in Vegas, when he'd been forced to send that text asking the team to meet him in the desert, he’d tried to slip in a clue that was too esoteric, and they showed up anyway. Happy was all sarcastic smiles and jokes when she piled out of their rented SUV. When he was thrown a shovel and told to dig, he realized none of them were getting out of the desert. All of them were going to die out there.

On the flight, his subconscious realized that, but for Walter’s ability to discern his hidden message, he, Happy, the rest of the team…they’d all be dead and buried in shallow graves they themselves were forced to dig…but for one obscure clue that had gotten them out of it by the skin of their teeth.

Images of the team…of _Happy_ being shot in the desert in front of him jolted him awake in a cold sweat on the flight that night. Walter hadn’t noticed, sleeping heavily in the seat beside him. He’d had the dream a time or two in the days following. From that point forward, when one of them had a particularly close call, he knew to expect his subconscious to process that in the form of a nightmare. It happened, sometimes a few times, and then it moved on, when he’d made his peace with it. He’d learned to accept it as a minor inconvenience of Scorpion’s Homeland work.

So it wasn’t altogether unexpected that tonight’s sleep was invaded by images of bomb vests and Paige and Happy, Collins’s voice as background track. The bomb exploded then reset then exploded again in his nightmare, taking Paige, taking Happy, taking him with it, Collins’s voice taunting the entire time. He was almost grateful to jerk awake to the still-disorienting site of being on the couch in the garage.

He listened to the sounds the wind made outside as he worked to get his breathing under control. It was a few seconds before he realized one of the sounds was too rhythmic to be made by nature. He looked over his shoulder to see Happy bent over her workbench. A glance at the time had him groaning. “What are you doing up?”

She didn’t answer, continued fiddling with the items in front of her, completely engrossed. He hauled himself off the couch. “Happy?”

She glanced up at the movement in her peripheral vision, surprised, and yanked one of her earbuds out of her ear. “Did I wake you?”

Toby shook his head. “What on earth are you doing?”

She shrugged, returning her eyes to her work surface. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Toby sighed. “So instead, you…”

“Decided to be productive,” she said, then brought her hands up by either side of her head, curling her fingers into claws. “I can’t get this whole thing between us organized in my head.”

“You and me both,” Toby mumbled, rubbing at his face. “Wait, what do you mean, exactly?”

Happy started digging in her storage cabinet. “I’m know we’re still in a holding pattern right now, but I’m thinking about a lot of different things that might help us repair this. Little ideas, big ideas. It’s all disjointed. I want to find some way of tracking my overall progress.”

Toby drew his face up tightly. “So you’re devising a method to measure where we are on the broken-heart-o-meter?”

She pointed at him. “We’re not calling it that. But yeah. I like measures.”

Toby shook his head. “Well, that’s not _at all_ something a type-A lunatic would do.”

Happy put her hands on her hips. “Do you wanna see this?”

“I’m terrified, and yet I can’t look away.”

Happy picked an object up off the table, then met his eyes, and turned the device over in her hands. “Do you know what this is?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Toby snarled.

“What?”

“It’s a tool.”

“What kind of tool?”

“A hand tool.”

Happy rolled her eyes. "It’s a wood planer. It shaves wood.”

“Not gonna ask why that is necessary in life.”

Happy pointed at the workbench. “Do you know what _this_ is?”

“A scrap from a two-by-four. And shut up.”

“Wood planer goes on the surface,” she said as she demonstrated, “and you go with the grain.” She made a few strokes with the tool. “It’s meant to even out rough spots, but eventually, you could go right through the two-by-four. I swore I was gonna wear you down…this is how I’m gonna keep track of it.”

“Happy,” he smiled. “That was damn near poetic. You know, for an engineer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she groused. I made a brace to hold the wood planer to the timber, like a slider. Tomorrow I’ll mount the whole thing back there,” she gestured to the wall behind her.

“Don’t you think the others will ask —”

“It’s none of their business if they do. I need to keep my head organized and this will help. It’ll be a reminder that I’m actually making progress."

“Hey,” Toby rounded the workbench. “All this ‘I’ stuff. You’re not in this alone, you know.”

Happy nodded. “But I…I’m the one who needs to demonstrate…your commitment’s not in question here, Toby. When you’re ready, I’m going to set things right between us.”

He grinned at her, big and goofy, and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” he said into her shoulder. “For wanting to do this. For being patient while I deal with this other stuff.”

She wrapped her arms around his ribs. “You’re welcome.” She took a steadying breath. “I love you, you know.”

“Hmm,” he grinned. “That is never going to get old. Hey, you get two points already.”

“What for?”

“One, you made the thing, and two, the I love you. I think every ‘I love you’ deserves a pass. They’re not easy for you.”

“Getting easier,” she grinned as she pushed the wood planer along the two by four twice. A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes.

Toby saw Happy’s eyes wander the shadows of the garage. Her features darkened for a moment, then she quickly tried to hide it. “This is some wind.”

Something was creeping her out. You couldn’t make Happy talk before she was ready, though. He’d learned that long ago. “I have a completely amazing idea.”

“What?”

“Let’s get some real, non-couch sleep in Walter’s bed.”

“That’s crazy.”

“He’s at Paige’s and the bed is not being slept in. It’ll be quieter up there. The two of us sleeping on half a couch each when there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs, _that’s_ crazy.”

“Doc,” she said, then fell silent. To curl up in his arms for the first night in weeks…damn it all, that did sound completely amazing. “What about your pause button?”

Toby cocked his head and took a step backward toward the stairs, grabbing her hand to pull her with him. “Our pause button. Just promise you won’t try anything under the covers,” he grinned.

She grinned. “I absolutely _do_ _not_ promise that.”

* * *

“So your co-worker’s alright, then?” Bissell asked.

“A little shaken still, but Paige will be fine. She’s the toughest of all of us.”

Bissell shook her head. “My God, Toby, these jobs of yours…you should all be in counseling regularly.”

“You’re telling me,” he said. “But good luck convincing them. OK,” he clapped his hands on his knees. “Let’s do some trigger work. What were you thinking? EMDR?”

Bissell’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re eager.”

“Inspired,” Toby said. “Happy is working so hard on her plan for getting us back to a good place, and she’s been patient while I work on this — and Happy is not a woman who thinks patience is a virtue. If she’s putting in that much effort, the least I can do is meet her halfway, do everything I can to get myself through this trauma and ready to talk about the ‘us’ issues. Plus I think there’s something to say for getting the show on the road, already.”

“Any new triggers since last session?”

“No.”

“How about the ones you know about?”

“I’m avoiding flossing for the time being.” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “Swear you won’t tell my dentist.”

Bissell nodded, but couldn’t hide her fidgeting.

Toby squinted at her. “What’s making you nervous?”

“Hey,” she pointed at him, only half-teasing. “In this room, _I’m_ the Harvard-educated therapist.” She sighed, drew her fingertips across her forehead. “Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing is a possibility, but EMDR is dependent on identifying the nature of the patient’s current psychological disturbance. I think we’re going to be flying blind until we know more about what your reaction is to the triggers. I’d like to start…with some controlled exposure.” She turned her head toward the empty club chair beside her.

Toby blanched. “That’s aggressive.”

“It is,” she said. “But I think we need to know more about what we’re dealing with. You don’t have to, of course. But I think you should consider it.”

Toby exhaled, willed his muscles not to draw up of their own accord. He nearly delayed, told her he’d sleep on it. Then he thought of Happy, of how hard she was trying…he didn’t have a right to  _not_ try to get better. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

“OK,” Bissell said, after reviewing some basic guidelines with him. “When you’re ready, why don’t you have a seat?”

Toby puffed his cheeks out, squared his shoulders, tugged gently at his still-sore neck. He shook his arms loosely and bounced on his heels a little.

“Toby, you’re about to sit down, not run a 5k.”

“Jackass,” Toby said, then lowered himself into the chair.

“Breaking up the tension,” she said, sinking to her own chair. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself. Absolutely nothing bad is going to happen to you in this room.”

Toby exhaled long again, letting his eyes drop closed. “Absolutely nothing bad is going to happen,” he said to himself.

“How’re you doing?” Bissell asked.

“Fine,” he opened his eyes and nodded. 

“Good. Keep talking to me about what’s happening.”

Toby nodded.

“When you’re ready, try sitting up a little straighter, as straight as is comfortable with your neck injury.”

Toby exhaled again, and pushed himself out of his slouched position.

“Keep up that breathing technique, that’s great.”

Toby nodded.

“OK, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the chair actually has arms,” she nodded to where his elbows were pinned tightly to his sides. Why don’t you give them a try, when you’re ready?”

Toby chewed on his lip and propped his elbows on the arms awkwardly.

“Keep breathing,” Bissell said.

Toby inhaled. “Now what?”

“Now…last session I promised you Happy talk if you went for it. Happy with a capital H. Talk about what’s going on with Happy.”

“And just…” he indicated the seat with his hands. 

“Sit there, yes. What’s been concerning you about Happy’s behavior since the kidnapping?”

So he talked. He didn’t realize how badly he’d needed to bounce this off of someone until he got started. He gave Bissell the background on Happy’s difficulty processing emotion, outlined the pertinent details of her past that contributed, talked about their friendship turned romance, her big profession the day Bissell conducted the eval, and talked about her behavior since that day, everything from her new romantic behaviors to her nightmares and other out-of-character behavior that seemed rooted in his close call with Collins.

At first, Toby had been tense, on guard, ready for the adverse effects of sitting in the chair. But as he continued to mentally organize and relay the information, answering Bissell’s clarifying questions, conducting his own concurrent analysis of Happy’s behavior even as he described the events as impartially as he could, he relaxed. His mental focus turned toward Happy, and he forgot the trigger, after a while.

Bissell postulated a theory for Happy’s reaction, and Toby let his head drop back against the chair, eyes searching the ceiling as he considered the possibility. That’s when it happened. 

One minute he was engaged in psychological analysis with a fellow shrink and the next, he was tied to that chair in the warehouse. He could feel the ropes cinched tight around his arms and torso, the hot pain in his neck as the rope dug into his forehead, could smell the dank air of the warehouse, could feel his sweat trickling down his face and neck. And then Collins's voice was in his ear, and for a moment, it had never ended. He had never left that warehouse. Everything since was more delusion than reality.

“Look at me,” Collins’s voice said. “Look at me.” And the voice began to morph into something more familiar. Comforting. “Toby, you’re safe. Open your eyes and look at me.”

He didn’t remember opening his eyes, but he found himself staring into Bissell’s in the next moment. “Breathe, Toby,” she said. Toby felt his brow furrow, and Bissell read the confusion on his face. “Yes, you’re breathing, but it’s too fast. Standard calming breath.” After two attempts, the deep breathing began to feel less foreign, and he nodded to himself. 

“Good,” Bissell read the cue. “Now look at the room around you. Assess your surroundings, Toby. Keep breathing.”

Toby let his eyes wander the space, and it began to sink in that he wasn’t in that warehouse, wasn’t at all where it had seemed he was moments ago. He found himself on the rug in front of the club chair, Bissell kneeling in front of him. “What the hell…” he muttered, arms and legs fumbling.

“Stay put for now,” Bissell said, turning her palms toward him. “You’re just fine where you are. Keep up that breathing.”

Toby panted heavily as he pulled his knees toward him, propping his elbows against them as he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Oh, my God.”

“Toby, you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, moving his hands to place his palms against his forehead as he stared at the rug. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Bissell nodded, watching him closely. “Toby, what street is this building on?”

Toby blinked, never pulling his gaze from the rug. “Olympic.”

Bissell quirked a corner of her mouth. He was coming out of it now. “Toby, the day we met, you made an accurate guess about my father’s job. What was it?”

Toby scraped one hand down his face. “Um, he was a cop. Career NYPD.”

Bissell let a tiny breath out, gently clapped his forearm. “Good. Keep up your breathing.” Toby inhaled. Bissell shifted to one hip. “That was a humdinger, huh?”

Toby rolled his eyes, which were suspiciously bright.

“Don’t you dare get embarrassed about this. This was what we needed to know.”

Toby sniffled, exhaled unevenly. “That sucked.”

“Damn right. Do you remember it?”

“It was a flashback, to the warehouse,” he dug his fingernails into his palms. “I remember that. I don’t remember the panic attack. I don’t remember moving to the floor.”

“It hit you fast. You were in the chair for almost 40 minutes. I was beginning to think it wasn’t going to happen. You finally let your guard down far enough and you went from zero to one hundred before I could do anything to help mitigate it.”

“Forty minutes…” he said absently, then raised his eyes to the clock on the wall. “Dammit,” he tried to pull his legs under him. “We’ve run into your next session.”

“We’re fine,” she put a hand on his knee to still him. “I mind the clock in here, Toby.”

“Michelle,” he gestured toward the clock and was distracted by the sight of his trembling hand.

“I rescheduled my 11 a.m.,” Bissell said. “We need to do this now.”

Toby rolled his lips between his teeth, fighting a wave a nausea. “I put my head back. Mirrored the physical position I was in that day. I wasn’t thinking about it, I was thinking about Happy, and—” He shook his head, swallowed the lump in his throat. “How long —”

“Forty-five seconds, maybe a minute, before you started to become responsive again.”

Toby’s face went slack. “That was a _minute_?”

“You actually pulled yourself out of it surprisingly quickly,” Bissell said. “Was it visual?”

“Not just visual,” Toby shook his head. “Intense tactile and olfactory hallucinations, and auditory…I could _hear_ the son of a bitch…as clearly as when it happened.”

“There’s a reason they call it a flashback,” she comforted. “Have you ever experienced panic attacks before?”

Toby shook his head, but seemed to become more overwhelmed. “Not since I was a kid,” he moaned, rubbing at his face. “My mother used to have these manic episodes…hostile episodes…and I’d wig out. I didn’t _hallucinate_.”

“Hey,” she leaned toward him. “This is _his_ fault. Not yours.”

This time, Toby did haul himself to his feet, batting away her attempts to steady him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not some normal who got dumped by his girlfriend or some outcast who’s never belonged. You don’t need to coach me on how I’m supposed to feel about this. Just…let’s work up a treatment plan. The sooner I can excise this from my psyche, the better.”

* * *

Bissell had sent Toby away with an appointment for the next day, an anti-anxiety prescription to help him sleep, which Toby had summarily dismissed, and orders to get some rest. He decided before he even left her office that alone with his thoughts was the last place he needed to be right now, so he headed back to the garage, but started to second-guess himself when the exhaustion began to set in. He briefly turned over the fantasy of convincing Happy to play hooky with him. Catching a movie, going to the beach…

…That fantasy died an early death when he approached the garage and could hear Happy’s heavy metal blasting from the alley. He opened the door to find Happy banging furiously at a piece of metal, while everyone else snuck glances her way from behind noise-canceling headphones.

Toby dropped his shoulders. So much for taking a half-day. He set his things down and motioned for Paige, who took her headphones off and ducked into the Airstream behind Toby.

“So,” Toby sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. “ _What_ the hell now?”

“We don’t know,” Paige shrugged. “She left not long after you did, and came back an hour ago in this mood from hell. She cranked her music and when Cabe tried to approach her about the volume, shot a look that made him flinch, I swear to God. Since then we’ve just left her alone.” Paige ran the fingers of her uninjured hand through her hair. “She usually doesn’t beat the hell out of inanimate objects unless she’s upset. We were gonna ask you what to do.”

Toby let his eyes dropped closed and briefly wondered what would happen when _he_ needed to ask someone what to do.

“Let it lie for now,” he said. “She’s working through something in her head.”

* * *

“Happy!”

Happy gave a tight-lipped smile as she halved the piece of sheet metal for the third time. It clanged on the cement floor with a satisfying finality. Her shoulders burned like hell from swinging at it for hours, but God, did it do wonders for her anger.

“Happy!” 

She unclamped the remaining piece of metal and repositioned it to begin striking again. One more ought to do it. Then she’d be ready to start working on a solution to this problem. She could feel the rage in her finally beginning to ebb, and then her music disappeared.

She spun on her heel. “I said deal with it. Oh. Toby,” she blinked, stunned to see him standing by the speaker with his fingers on the volume knob. “When did you get back?”

“An hour ago. Take a break from that already.”

Happy shook her head and turned back to her workbench. “Busy.”

“Beating the hell out of nothing for no reason,” Toby said.

Happy looked around the deserted garage. “Where is everybody?”

“Getting lunch, which is a euphemism for getting the hell away from you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she pulled her safety goggles back down over her eyes. “Bad morning, that’s all.”

“You and me both,” Toby muttered. 

Happy turned back to him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She knit her brows together momentarily, but dismissed the concern gnawing at the back of her brain. “Do you mind?” she nodded toward the speaker.

“Yes,” Toby said. “It’s been two hours. Either get OK with it or tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, Doc,” she turned back to the workbench and raised the hammer over her head, without her music.

She was stunned when Toby reached around and caught her wrist at the top of her swing. “You went to the OB-GYN this morning?”

“How the hell did you —”

“I pay attention. Happy…did you get bad news?”

“No,” she shook her head, finally lowered the hammer to the workbench. “She agrees with you, she thinks the whole thing was probably just stress. She did some bloodwork but she’s not worried.”

Toby breathed a small sigh of relief. “Then what the hell’s eating you?”

Happy hesitated, but opened her mouth to answer just as the team began to cautiously file back in. She glanced over her shoulder, then took a steadying breath before meeting his eyes. “Roof.”

* * *

“I met with my divorce attorney this morning after the doctor,” Happy said, looking out at downtown instead of at Toby. “Unfortunately, I have no options left for annulment. Too much time has passed. I’ll have to seek a divorce and while there are options to do that without his cooperation,” she breathed out heavily, “that means six months. Minimum.”

Something that had been strained to the limit inside of him for hours, days, weeks, snapped in that moment. It was barely even a sensation, but there it was. Tobias M. Curtis had officially had it up to here. “Six months?” he asked hollowly.

Happy nodded.

“Six months?” he heard himself squeak.

Happy sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just as disappointed as you are. But I will fix this, Toby. It’s _my_ problem, and I will figure a way out of it.”

They’d had spirited debates over the years. And Toby was a loud guy, even in the sunniest of moods. Happy’s temper ran hot at a moment’s notice. Even once they became lovers, they bantered and wrestled for control of conversations with a level of enthusiasm that most people would mistake for aggression. But at this moment, pushed past his limits for the dozenth time in just a few days, on the roof at lunchtime on an idle Monday, Toby did something he’d never done before.

He looked Happy in the face and yelled for all he was worth.

* * *

At first, Happy had been too stunned to respond. She stood silently gaping as Toby paced and ranted about Collins and the destruction that had been wrought upon his life. She watched him pace around her as he vented his frustration over the time frame. But when he went on the offensive and pointed out once again, she was viewing her marriage as _not_ being his problem, but hers alone to fix, that’s when Happy started to push back.

“I don’t know what you want from me on this,” she yelled. “I apologize to you daily for marrying him. I am trying to fix it. What else am I supposed to do?”

“You are supposed to _let someone else help you, for God’s sake, Happy_!” Toby screamed, clenching his fists in front of him as he closed the distance between them. “Calling it your problem to fix is what got you into this mess in the first place. Only you didn’t just get _you_ into this mess, you got me into it.”

“This was _years_ before we got together —”

“We were friends! You were my best friend! There was nothing I didn’t tell you! To say _nothing_ of when we finally started dating.” He paced the length of the roof with his hands on his hips. “Do you want to know the irony of the whole thing? If you’d told me, if you’d summoned that _tiny_ bit of trust in me, if you’d told me when he popped up again in Montero, or when we started dating, _anytime_ before the day I walked into that hearing room…” he spread his hands. “Happy, I could have done it _for_ you. There are grounds for annulling a marriage in California based on mental illness when the other party refuses to cooperate. It takes a shrink who knows the parties involved and knows his way around the paperwork for the judge. I could have done it! And even seven years ago, I would have been happy to! Just as a friend. Just because it was _the right_ thing to do. But now,” he shook his head, lifted his hands to his eyes, “even if too much time hadn’t passed, now I’m not the psychiatrist who can attest to his mental state. I’m the attempted murder victim whose… _brain_ he melted.” Happy flinched. “And in the eyes of the court, I’m never _not_ going to be that. Too bad you didn’t trust me before.”

Happy closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why does me not telling you add up to that I didn’t trust you?”

“Because it _does_.”

“It can’t just add up to I’ve always been on my own and I do things myself and can I please have a little bit of autonomy without you going all cave-man on me?”

“You stopped being on your own, Happy, the day you met me!” he closed the space between them and came nose-to-nose with her. “Learn to live with it!”

Happy’s eyes went wide.

Toby breathed heavily. “Just…can I just please get…I thought I wasn’t…what you kept from me has made me feel…alone. Even right beside you. I don’t know how to process that you could need help, could be keeping from me things that affect me—”

“But this affected me,” Happy said. “I’m sorry that it happened, and that it hurt you, and I know I screwed up the how and the when, but it _really_ _was_ my problem.”

Toby swiped a hand across his face. “Look at me, Happy,” he spread his arms. “Look at us. Do you still think that this only affects you?” He exhaled, physically deflating. “Look, that’s all for now. I need to clear my head,” he walked past her toward the door. “I love you and I’ll be back later.”

“Just a minute,” she snapped, and he turned around. She closed the distance between them. “Was this good?”

Toby gaped. “Was this…good? Are you having a ministroke?”

“We’re fighting about the thing, the stuff between us,” Happy said. “You said you couldn’t move on to that until you started to get a handle on the other stuff. So does that mean…I mean, does this mean you’re feeling…better?”

He shook his head, frantically searching for something to say besides, _I had a panic attack to beat the band on my therapist’s office floor this morning._ “It’s definitely still a work in progress,” he said.

“But…but a good sign, right?”

“Yeah,” he forced. “Yeah, it’s a good sign that I’m starting to turn my focus to this, but —”

She grinned so large her dimples pierced her cheeks. “Well then way to rip me a new one, Doc.” She lifted her hand in a high-five.

He felt like the biggest hypocrite on Earth when he gently slapped her palm. Then the smile faded instantly and she stepped around him. “Arrogant ass.”

“Don’t you have some getting divorced to do?” he half-teased.

“Where the hell does it look like I’m going?” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t you have some clearing your head to do?”

“I’m actually pissed at you, you know.”

“I’m actually pissed back, you know.”

He fought a smile. “I actually love you, you know.”

“I actually love you, too, jerk.” 

* * *

Eight hours later, most of the gang had gone home. Paige napped on the couch while Walter and Ralph worked in the loft, and Happy scratched away on Sly’s board with her headphones on.

Toby watched her from his desk as she attempted to map her various options for ending her marriage with Collins. 

“Put that away for tonight,” Paige had chided before passing out on the couch. “This is what you’re paying the divorce attorney for.” 

But Happy had shaken her head. “Every problem has a solution,” Happy said. “There’s something I’m missing.”

Toby shook his head back and forth slowly. Happy was right. Every problem does have a solution, however undesirable it may be. There may be no way for her to end this quickly. But there was a way for him to end it quickly. He looked back at the open document on his screen and printed it, scooping the papers off the network printer immediately. 

He jostled Paige awake on the couch and told her to gather Ralph.

“I’m taking Paige home,” he said to Happy. “She’s hopped up on the pain meds, and I’ve got an errand to run anyway.”

Happy blinked, seeming to doubt his intentions. “You’ll be back?”

He offered her an apologetic grin. “Absolutely.”

* * *

Collins slumped in his bunk, staring at the blank wall on the opposite side of the cell. Using his finger, he drew in the air, the strokes staying in place in his mind’s eye just as surely as if they’d been written in ink. He chided himself silently. He’d gone too easy on them last time. On all of them. The stakes hadn’t been high enough. He’d allowed his emotion in the wake of Tobias’s betrayal to get the better of him. That was his fault. Next time…next time he’d present them with a conundrum befitting someone of his intellect.

“Collins,” the guard said from the other side of the bars. “Up, turn around, hands behind your back.”

“What’s happening?” Collins leaned forward on the bunk.

“Attorney’s here to see you.”

* * *

Collins allowed himself to be seated in the chair, and shackled to the floor and table, staring intently at the back of the man who’d come to visit him. It wasn’t until the doors shut behind the guards that the man squared his shoulders, straightened his tie, and turned.

“Good news,” Toby said impassively, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Collins. “There’s a deal on the table for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys make me fly. I wish I could churn this out faster for you. Thanks to those of you who continue to read. <3


	15. Baby, I’ve Got the Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes on the road out of hell, you take some missteps.
> 
> ‘but you gotta be extra forgiving. and you gotta be super strong. you gotta be a true romantic. i want you to look the other way when everything goes wrong.’ - indigo girls, ‘true romantic’
> 
> Curtis Method, Rule 9: You’re going to want to kill each other sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really excited about this chapter, because we take some giant plot steps forward. Hope you enjoy!

**‘but you gotta be extra forgiving. and you gotta be super strong. you gotta be a true romantic. i want you to look the other way when everything goes wrong.’ - indigo girls, ‘true romantic’**

_Curtis Method, Rule 9: You’re going to want to kill each other sometimes._

* * *

 

Collins’s face spread into an ear-to-ear grin before he gave in to a fit of laughter. His shoulders shook, head bent forward, chains rattling with his movements before he tipped his head back up to look at Toby’s stock-still form.

“Well,” Collins sighed on his last peals of laughter. “They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel for public defenders these days. How’ve you been, Tobias? How’s the neck?”

“I’m a hell of a lot better than you, or haven’t you noticed you’re the one tied to the chair now?” Toby sat opposite Collins at the table and opened the briefcase he’d brought. It was little more than a prop for the guards, stuffed mostly with junk mail and random papers from his apartment. 

“You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”

Toby forced a grin, unable to resist the opportunity to save face. “Now that you mention it, from the moment I walked out of that warehouse, I can barely get a moment’s peace _thanks to your wife_. Since the close call I had in that little Rube Goldberg of yours, she can’t keep her hands off me. I should thank you.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Collins smiled maniacally. “So, at last you know. How’d you take the news? I wish I could have been there.”

Toby took the papers he printed at the garage from the briefcase and slapped them in front of Collins wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Collins leaned forward. “Ah,” he met Toby’s eyes again. “Divorce papers. How is the missus, anyway? She didn’t want to come see me herself?”

Toby clenched his jaw. “Your competency hearing is later this week, and trust me, Collins, _you will be_ found competent. Then you’ll be convicted, and go to prison, for a very long time.” Toby steepled his fingers. “Or,” he cocked his head to the side, “you can sign the papers.”

“And how in your puny brain does my signing the papers add up to something beneficial for me?”

“Because my memory is dependent on it, that’s how,” Toby snarled, leaning forward. “I’m the star witness for the prosecution. He leaned back in the chair, eyes dancing around the ceiling. “Here’s the thing, though, I sustained a grade-3 concussion from the blunt object you cold-cocked me with.”

“It was a pipe. You went down so easily. Like a marionette with its strings cut.” 

Toby flashed unexpectedly on the moment in the parking garage. The text he was sending to Sly, the feeling of his head snapping forward and everything going black at the edges. He swallowed hard against the sensation. “Whatever. The point is, my memory of that day is crystal clear. Or is it? If properly motivated, I could entertain the notion of telling the prosecutor that when I gave my statement I was in shock, suffering from mild traumatic brain injury, and I can’t be sure anymore of what was real and what was concussion-induced.”

Collins rolled his eyes. “Are you really that desperate to marry her, Tobias? Man, did I hit you so hard that you don’t even register,” he pressed his fingers hard into his temple, “that she’s been lying to you the entire time you knew her? And you had _no_ idea?”

“We’re not here to talk about her,” Toby said through gritted teeth. “What’s left is between you and me. You sign the divorce papers, Collins, and I can make this a hell of a lot easier on you.”

Collins narrowed his eyes. “Walter won’t lie. Neither will the Fed.”

“Walter and the Fed didn’t ever actually see us together. They know someone abducted me, they know he identified himself as you, they know they saw you at the scene, but they can’t prove _anything_ without my testimony. You’ll go back to the hospital, yes. But that’s a hell of a lot better than prison.”

“Tobias,” Collins sighed. “What have I ever done to make you think I was stupid?”

“I can sell it,” Toby said. “They’ll suspect that I’m not being truthful, yes. They’ll think that I’m scared, don’t want to testify. Doesn’t matter what they _think_. They’ll drop the felony charges if I recant.” Toby leaned forward. “They _never even saw us_ in the same room together. I can _sell_ this, Collins.”

“Gawd,” Collins moaned. “Everything about your response to this has been _so_ predictable. Makes me reconsider the wisdom of leaving you that loophole. Which, by the way, is the only reason you’re sitting here talking to me.” He shook his head. “Walter was always very capable.”

“Window’s closing, Collins,” Toby ground out. He slapped a pen down on top of the papers. “Sign them, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Tobias, Tobias, Tobias…do you know that the key to successful negotiation is? You’ve got to have something the other person wants. The hospital, the prison, they’re both incarceration. Makes no difference to me. That’s not what I want.”

“You keep telling yourself that, when you go back in there,” Toby nodded over Collins’s shoulder. 

Collins grinned. “Do you know what I think about in there? All day? Really? While you’re printing divorce legal templates off the Internet and planning your dream wedding to the woman who doesn't even think enough of you not to lie to you?” He leaned forward suddenly, chains clinking, and grabbed Toby by the shirt. “I think about the way your voice shook when you begged me not to kill you,” he whispered harshly, then immediately released his grip.

The world spun rapidly in front of Toby’s eyes. He shot to his feet, snatching the papers in his fist before stepping back from the table. He shoved them in his briefcase and backed away from the table unsteadily. “I’ll see you at trial.”

“Do you really think this is the last chapter? You can’t be that naive. Maybe next time I should spend the day catching up with _Happy_ instead of you.”

The next thing he knew, he was leaning over the table, having jerked Collins to his feet by the collar. 

Two guards burst into the room. “What the hell?”

Toby panted heavily. “Professional disagreement. Take him back to his _cell_ ," he shoved Collins away from him. "We are finished here.”

“For now,” Collins said. 

One guard tapped Toby on the arm. “Sir, step out, please.”

Toby backed toward the door, eyes never leaving Collins. “Trial,” he said pointedly, knowing how carefully he had to watch his words in front of the guards. “I will see you at trial. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You know, you really do look tired, Toby,” Collins said. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, maybe you should see the doc.”

* * *

Toby burst into the garage, scanning the space frantically for Happy.

“Hey,” she emerged from the kitchen, wooden spoon in her hand. “I was just about to call you. In a few minutes there’s going to be — ooof,” she was cut off as Toby crossed the space as fast as his feet would carry him and walked straight into her.

Toby squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in her scent, pressing a kiss into her hair as the tension from the jail finally began to ebb. “I love you so much,” he breathed.

Happy held the wooden spoon away from them, but wrapped her other arm around his waist. “I…love you, too,” she scowled at his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

 _Maybe next time I should spend the day catching up with Happy instead of you._ “Nothing.”

She knit her brows together. “Sure seems like something.”

He shook his head, trying like hell to banish from his mind’s eye the images of the last hour. “Nothing worth mentioning, I just…” he brought his hand to the back of her head. “I just love you so much, Hap.”

She grinned. “So I guess that fight _was_ a good thing.”

He pressed another kiss to her scalp. “Maybe.”

“What are you wearing?”

He pulled back and looked down at his “lawyer’s” attire, completely forgotten in his desperation to get back to Happy and scrub Collins’s voice from his head. “Oh. I had to change for my appointment.”

You needed a suit for an appointment that was…it’s 10 p.m. on a Monday, Doc.”

He flinched. Dammit. He thought he’d shaken the issues with the nickname. If Happy caught it, she didn’t say anything. “I…long story. Right now, I’m just…” he stepped forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead, “glad to be back here with you.”

“Happy, I’m off,” Walter called from the top of the steps. “When Toby gets back, tell him — oh, hey. Why, exactly, did you take Paige home?”

Toby blinked hard to shake the cobwebs. “That prescription’s really knocking her for a loop, she was passed out on the couch. She needed some rest, and I was going out anyway.”

Walter froze as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Well, should I not go over there?”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Why the hell would I care if you went over there?”

“I mean, if it’s too early in the relationship to…if I should give her some space…or let her rest...”

“Walter,” Toby sighed, whipping his tie off and tossing it to his desk. “Go over there, don’t go over there. I’m not your love life coach.”

Walter scowled. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Toby froze. “Nothing.” He rounded his desk. “If you’re going over there, I’m using your shower.”

“Hrumph,” Walter groaned. “Wait, so does that mean I _should_ —”

“Just go!” Toby shouted, turning on his heel and closing the distance between them while pointing to the door. “Just go, you lovesick teenager. Now. And don’t be an ass when you get there.”

Walter’s scowl deepened. “OK,” he said, backing toward the door. He glanced in Happy’s direction, then back at Toby. “See you tomorrow.”

Toby sighed when the door closed behind him. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“Don’t take too long,” Happy said, waving the wooden spoon at him. “There’s pasta.”

He smiled. “This is why you’re the woman of my dreams, you know that?”

* * *

“You’re quiet,” Happy called as she turned the faucet off in the kitchen and dried her hands. 

Toby tugged on the front door handle. “I was busy stuffing my face with your pasta. No time.”

“You didn’t eat that much.”

“I ate plenty. I just can’t do to a bowl of pasta what you can, my little carb machine. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy your appetite seems to finally be bouncing back.”

Happy pulled her hands inside the sleeves of Toby’s Harvard sweatshirt she was wearing. “I figured I’d given you enough grief on that for the time being.” 

Toby paced back toward her. “Of all the sources of grief in my life, Hap, looking out for you has never, will never, be one of them.” He folded his arms around her shoulders and tucked her head under his chin. 

She wrapped her arms around his ribs, rubbing her hands along his spine. “Toby…are you sure this is just a bad day?”

“One hell of a bad day,” Toby said.

“Wanna get some real sleep in Walter’s bed again?”

“ _That_ ,” he said, leaning back, “is the best idea I’ve heard this entire craptastic day. Especially if you’re actually going to sleep for a change. I’m right behind you, I just need to lock up.”

Happy’s brows knit together of their own accord. “You just did. I watched you, Doc.”

Toby blinked once. Twice. Three times. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Happy nodded. “She tugged up the sleeve of Toby’s oversized sweatshirt and threaded her fingers though his. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t say anything, but allowed himself to be tugged up the stairs behind her.

* * *

Happy shot bolt upright at Toby’s scream. It took her a moment to get oriented as he flailed in the covers.

“Toby,” she reached for him, but he blindly batted her hands away. “Toby, wake up.” She reached back and turned on the lamp beside her. “Toby, wake up.”

He froze when the light hit him, awkwardly balanced on his elbows, as his eyes traveled the space. “What…” he gulped air, battling confusion. Finally his eyes fell on her. “Oh,” he crumpled, then launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her middle and curling into her chest. “Oh, God. Happy,” he whimpered, sounding impossibly small. 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “It was just a nightmare, Doc.” He flinched in her arms. “Woah, OK. OK,” she rubbed her hands along his shoulders. No using that name right now. Sorry.”

Toby made all sorts of sounds as he fought for air and clung to Happy, but none of it was intelligible, until —

“Talk to me.”

“And…say what?,” Happy asked.  
  
“I don’t care,” he moaned. “Just talk to me. Talk about anything.”

She dropped her chin and pressed a kiss into the curls on top of his head. “Toby, it was just a stupid nightmare. Um…” she rubbed her hands along his shoulders again as she tried to remember the things he’d said to her a few nights ago. “I know it sucked, but you’re safe now. You know that, right? It was…it was just a bad dream.” She rocked him back and forth as his erratic breathing continued. “Remember, you said you had a bad day today?”

Toby nodded against her shoulder.

“Remember our argument at lunchtime on the roof?”

A pause, then another nod.

“Remember, I made us pasta tonight? And then we came up to the loft, because Walter went to Paige’s?”

A little sigh as his breathing finally began to slow, then another nod. He curled even tighter into her. “Ugh. How could I fall in love with someone who’s too snack-sized to give bear hugs?”

“You don’t think I can bear hug you?” Happy said, repositioning her arms experimentally. “Let me tell you something, Curtis, I will bear hug the crap out of you.”

Toby tightened his already vice-like grip on her, and they stayed like that for a while, Toby’s breathing gradually returning to normal.

“So…” Happy said. “Isn’t this the part where you try to get me to talk about it?”

Toby shook his head. “Not tonight, Hap.”

“Hey,” she snuck a peek at his face. “That’s a pretty good impression of my usual answer.”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Well, then I’m sorry. Because that answer’s annoying as hell. I ought to know. Ugh,” he dropped his eyes, pulled a hand down his face. “This was a spectacularly stupid day. I mean, from start to finish.”

Happy nodded. “That also seems like something you’d try to get me to talk about.”

He shook his head, burrowing deeper into her embrace. “Thank you. But no.”

Happy repositioned her arms around him. “Then…what _do_ you need now?”

“You,” he sighed. “Just this. Just you.”

* * *

“Okay,” Happy said to the group as she set a mug of coffee in front of a quiet Toby, giving him a little smile and a light touch to his forearm. “The name of this game is, ‘Who’d Like to Divorce Me?’”

Sylvester pulled a face. “What?”

“It’s some cockamamie idea she cooked up overnight,” Toby said into his mug.

“Which you should support me in,” Happy arched an eyebrow.

“I support you getting divorced,” Toby leaned forward over his desk, hands wrapped around his mug, then shook his head. “I mean, _believe me_ , I support that. But this is insane. I am a psychiatrist, and by definition I cannot promote insanity.”

“What the hell are you two babbling about?” Walter said.

Toby rolled his eyes. “Happy subscribes to a theory that if you can’t get Mark Collins to divorce you —”

“— then divorce any Mark Collins you can find,” Happy said. “I’m an expert in fake ID’s, you’re a great hacker, Walt…all we need is the stand-in.”

Toby shook his head back and forth and took a long sip from his mug.

“Paige,” Happy said. “My marriage certificate says that I am married to a man. You are out.”

“Damn,” Paige snapped her fingers.

“You can sit on the selection committee with Toby and me.”

“I’m not on any selection committee. I’m on the Committee Against Happy Losing Her Mind,” Toby sighed, hanging his face directly in the steam from the coffee mug and letting his eyes slip closed against his bone-deep exhaustion. He'd fallen back to sleep in Happy's arms after the nightmare, but it has been restless, plagued with the images Collins had planted in his head the night before. 

“Speaking of being against this,” Tim said. “This sounds an awful lot like a felony to me, so I’ll be over there,” he nodded to the kitchen. “Out of earshot.”

Paige hopped onto the cafeteria table beside Happy. “Well, there goes my first choice.”

“Mine, too,” Happy said.

“Oh, please,” Toby nodded toward the kitchen, “a stranger could tell from fifty paces that you two would never end up together.”

“Hey, I’m not going for cutest couple, here. I’m going for about-the-right-age-and-can-lie-with-a-straight-face. Speaking of which, Sly, you’re out.”

“Why?!? You didn’t even give me a shot!”

Toby rolled his eyes. “You’re upset about not getting a shot,” he motioned his hands emphatically around the group, “ _at this_?!?”

“Alright, pal,” Happy said. “Say the words, ‘Hello, my name is Mark Collins’ without breaking and you’ll advance to the next round.”

“There are _rounds_?” Toby screeched.

Sly smoothed his sweater vest nervously, then closed the distance between him and Happy. “Hello,” he said warmly, shaking her hand. “My name is Mark Coll—” he broke off and shifted from foot to foot. “Collins?” he grinned.

“Are you asking me?” Happy deadpanned.

“Fine, I’m out,” Sylvester grumbled.

“So, we’re down to Walter,” Happy sighed.

“Don’t count Cabe out,” Paige offered.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“Why? He’s amazing at undercover work. Plus, Cabe is perfectly eligible. Nobody bats an eyelash at a May-December romance anymore.”

“It doesn't work,” Happy shook her head.

“You can’t say that,” Paige said. “You two have a lot in common, you’re both stoic, you both like…things with engines, and Cabe has a lot to give to the right person.”

“This isn’t happening,” Toby groaned, cheek flat on the desk.

“Statistically,” Sylvester said, “some 80 percent of marriages with a large age gap occur because the younger partner is seeking some sort of stability.” He shrugged. “Maybe Cabe has money.”

“Idiots,” Happy raised her voice a notch. “We’re not trying to make a love connection here!”

“41!” Toby interrupted, and the other three spun to face him. “Happy’s marriage certificate says that she is married to a 41-year-old man named Mark Geoffrey Collins, so unless you also have a _time machine_ , this remains a stupid idea.” He stood and downed the last of the coffee in a gulp. “Take Walter down there to get a divorce, and he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut, he’ll attract attention, which equals extra scrutiny, which equals you both have the right to remain silent.” He walked toward the coffee maker. “There are no shortcuts here. Believe me on that.”

The door swung open with a with a clang, and Cabe tore into the garage, eyes searching the room until they landed on Toby. “Are you _crazy_?!?” He converged on Toby and they were toe-to-toe in an instant. “ _Are you_ crazy?”

“What’s going on?” Walter came closer.

“Mark Collins got a visit in custody last night, his lawyer,” Cabe barked, heedless of Toby’s pleading look. “It seems he’s retained a private attorney,” he tapped his phone several times. “Here’s a copy of the photo ID he presented when he signed in.”

He turned his phone toward the group, where Toby’s face displayed with different contact information. The rest of the team pivoted as one toward Toby, who was silently scrubbing his face. “Best I could do on short notice.”

Happy took a breath, body stiffening down to her fingertips, a myriad of emotions contorting her face. “Are you kidding me?” her voice shook.

Toby bit his bottom lip and looked at the floor. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?”

Finally, Toby raised his eyes to hers. He shook his head. “No.”

“You posed as a lawyer and went in there and talked to that _lunatic_?”

“More than talked,” Cabe said. “Guards reported the conversation turned physical at one point.”

Happy’s eyebrows shot up. “He got…he _hurt_ you?”

Cabe shook his head. “Toby got physical. I’d ask you what the hell you wanted from him, but I think we both know.”

Toby moved his eyes back to Cabe’s.

For the first time, Cabe’s tone softened. “What did you offer Collins in exchange for granting Happy a divorce, son?” 

Happy’s eyes went wide.

“The only thing any of us have to offer him. I offered to recant my statement.” He shrugged. “That didn’t work. So don’t worry,” he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked toward the stairs. “It won’t happen again.”

* * *

“Are you _crazy_?!?” Happy yelled.

Toby leaned against the ledge at the edge of the roof and sighed. “You’ve asked me that four times, and the answer is still that it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.”

“If he tells anyone about this, you have compromised the _entire case_ , Toby.”

“I know.”

“Where the _hell_ do you get off doing this after lecturing me that you’re supposed to let people help you?”

“Because I’m the only one who had anything to offer him,” Toby said. “You were never going to be able to get him to change his mind. I’m the only one of us who had something to incentivize our desired outcome.”

“This is not my desired outcome!” Happy yelled. “You waking up in a cold sweat gasping for air is not my desired outcome.”

“I’ll admit the conversation got sideways and that backed up on me last night,” Toby said. “I’ll work through it.”

“The way you worked through it last night?”

The door opened. “Busy, Walt,” Toby snarled.

“You can keep fighting in a minute, I just have to reposition the satellite dish, the signal is spotty again.” Walter climbed to the upper level of the roof to tinker with the dish.

Happy and Toby stared at each other for a few beats, then paced away from each other.

“I did this on my own because I knew that you would want to stop me,” Toby bit out. “And it could’ve worked! It he hadn’t been so damned sadistic, it _would have_ worked!”

“You went in there and tried to make a deal with the devil! That is _never_ going to work!”

Toby hung his head, dejected. “I know,” he threw his hands up. “I know. But I wanted us to be able to be together.”

“We are together. We’ve been sleeping on the same couch for weeks!” Happy yelled. “We spend practically all day together. Hell, when Walter’s not here, we curl up in his bed just to get closer to each other!”

“You _what now_?” Walter asked. Happy waved him away.

“That’s not…what we were before, Happy.”

“But that’s been _your_ choice, Toby. You and your pause button. _Screw_ the pause button, Toby! It is _just a piece of paper_. I want to be with you, and if push comes to shove, I _don’t care_ what some file on a server somewhere says! Mark Collins should have no effect on you and me!”

Toby let that stretch between between them, then shook his head. “Then how come he does?”

“Sheesh, if the computer file is what’s bothering you, then why not erase it?” Walter said as he climbed down the ladder. 

Toby squinted. “ _Hack_ it?”

Walter nodded. “Child’s play. And a lot simpler than cooking up a fake Mark Collins to divorce.”

“You could do that?” Happy said. “I mean, erase it completely?”

“I’m one of the best hackers in the history of the world.”

“You’re telling me that in…I don’t know, a half-hour…I would no longer be married?”

“A half-hour? Don’t insult me, Happy,” he winked. “And I’m saying that in 10 minutes, not only could you no longer be married, you could never have been married in the first place.”

“Wh…” Happy breathed. “Well…” she looked over at Toby with hope.

“ _No_ ,” Toby shook his head.

“You _said_ this is what you wanted!” Happy yelled.

“It’s fraud, Happy.”

Walter shrugged. “So was the marriage. Turnabout’s fair play.”

Toby shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Happy,” he stepped toward her with his hands out. “Regardless of the circumstances, the marriage is legal. So if you don’t undo it legally, it’s something that will hang over your head, over _our_ heads forever. This man took your life, your future, your freedom and he raked it through the mud. If we cheat to get rid of this thing, we leave the door open for him to do it again. I just…at some point in time, the lying’s got to stop.”

Happy nodded with a clenched jaw. “As opposed to blackmailing him into signing papers?”

“I…” And Happy saw his face nearly crumble. He put his hands up. “That’s all I’ve got,” he said, voice tight. “I’ll be back. I love you.”

“I love you,” Happy sighed as he walked away.

“That was a very unusual conversation,” Walter mumbled.

Happy cleared her throat. “You’re telling me.”

* * *

“If I weren’t a consummate, caring professional, I’d say —”

“Say it.”

“Are you _crazy_?” Bissell asked. 

“Swear to God, I’m not sure of the answer anymore.”

Bissell leaned her face into her hand. “When I advised you to set aside your relationship issues until you could deal with the primary trauma, did you listen?”

“Yes. I did. I just…got sidetracked.”

“And yesterday, when you were here, and you had flashback and subsequent panic attack after controlled exposure to a known trigger, did you listen when I advised you to take the afternoon off and rest?”

“Yes.”

“Can you articulate a reason that you not only didn’t do those things, but instead snuck into the L.A. County Jail to confront the man who inflicted this trauma on you?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“No. Yes. We are go on sleep disturbances.”

“Before or after you saw him?”

“Both. But after…was substantially worse.”

Bissell sighed. “I don’t doubt it.”

“It was the same thing that used to happen after I cleaned up at a card table,” Toby mumbled. “I always knew I was done. I always knew I should walk away. But I’d controlled the table so completely, I’d tell myself that I could push it up one more notch. And I’d bet on something I couldn’t read, couldn’t control, and lose my shirt. It was the same damn thing. I just…I lapsed back into an old habit. Old neural pathways. It was a knucklehead mistake.” 

“You’re a gambling addict?”

“In recovery.”

“How long have you been sober?”

“Almost three months.”

Bissell felt her stomach drop. “OK. OK, that’s amazing. Now, listen to me. All stop, all right? Your plate is full to the point of overflowing. You’ve got the kidnapping, hostage situation and attempted murder by a former coworker, the girlfriend who turned down your proposal because she was forced to marry said former coworker, the fact that she never shared that with you, trauma that is still developing, these crazy-ass jobs of yours, and now you’ve gone a second round with this guy. Oh, and you’re less than three months in recovery. Do not add any more pancakes to this stack, OK?”

“Yeah,” Toby groaned. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t help this guy kick your ass, OK?”

“He’s doing a fine job of kicking my ass on his own.”

“Then he _definitely_ doesn’t need your help.”

Toby exhaled. “OK.”

“Talk to Cabe about what happened in the visit last night, but for the most part, what’s done is done. If something comes of it that affects the case, then we’ll deal with it then. Right now we only have the power to make it worse.” 

“Could I actually face charges for —”

“Unlikely. If something comes of it, tell Cabe to reach out to me and I’ll probably be able to call off the DA by simply quantifying your state of mind.”

“Oh, man,” Toby ground the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Toby, there’s nothing more to be done with it right now. Put it away.”

He let his hands slide until his fingertips rested on his cheekbones. “Copy that.”

“I strongly urge you to maintain a holding pattern with Happy for now and focus on the trauma at hand.”

Toby nodded. “It’s wearing on her, though.”

“She can take it. She’s not going anywhere.”

* * *

“You’ve been staring at the same page for over an hour.”

Toby looked up from his textbook. “I didn’t see you there.”

Happy dropped onto the coffee table by Toby’s feet. “You were too busy…meditating?”

He quirked a corner of his mouth at her. “You’re not far off. I’ve just…” he lifted one hand beside his head, “got some things in the spin cycle.”

“I know, I could hear the gears grinding,” Happy teased. 

Toby looked around the garage as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Did we lose everybody else?”

“We did,” she studied him intensely. “I want to ask you if you’re OK, but I don’t know how.”

“Think you just did, sweetheart.”

She gave a tiny shrug. “You gonna answer?”

Toby shut the book and tucked his fingers under his thighs. “The honest answer is no,” he sighed. “But I will be. It’s going to take more time. More work. But I will be. Yesterday when I blew my stack about the annulment, and you thought I was ready to move forward with the…the you-and-me…stuff.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Happy, I got ahead of myself. I need you to hold tight for me for a little longer, if you can.”

Happy nodded slowly. “I can hold tight as long as I need to. You could have told me that yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “I wanted to be ready.”

Happy propped her feet on the couch in front of her. “I don’t like being pissed at each other.”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, pulling her legs closer to him and tucking them between his elbow and his side, “ I _hate_ being pissed at each other. But we’re gonna be pissed at each other sometimes.” He pinched her shin. “Like when you have a secret husband or I’m a jackass.”

“Okay, but to be fair, I only have one secret husband,” Happy held her finger up. “You can’t say that about your thing.”

“Oh, God, we’re doomed.” There was a lilt in his voice, but no smile. He didn’t have that in him tonight. 

Happy’s face dropped. “Toby…I appreciate what you tried to do with that…I mean I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate your intent. I just…the thought of you compromising the case against him…the thought of you voluntarily putting yourself alone in a room with that monster…”

“I was fine. He was the one tied to the chair this time.”

Happy blinked hard, suddenly woozy as she imagined the first round of conversations they’d had that day in the warehouse. 

“Whoa,” Toby sat forward. “Hap.”

She shook her head. “S’Fine.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Happy stared at his hand on her knee. “What did he say? When you asked him?”

“No,” Toby turned his hands up. “He said no.”

Happy scrunched her face up. “I just…” she shook her head. “Why is he doing this?”

“To torture us. Don’t try to get in his head, Happy. It’s never going to make sense to either of us. There are no answers to be had.”

They both turned at the sound of the door. “Hey,” Toby said. “You’re not staying at Paige’s?”

“The relationship is new, and sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Walter said by way of explanation. “Or so I’m told. Plus, you know, I suppose there’s an argument to be made that I should be protecting my bed against violation.”

“Nobody’s violating your bed, roomie,” Toby teased.

“ _Believe_ me,” Happy groused. Toby gently kicked her in the hip.

“Sadly, that is a statement I will never fully believe. Good night.”

“Night, Walt,” Toby said.

“Banished again to the couch,” Happy said as Walter disappeared up the stairs. “I was wondering what you thought about heading to sleep early. You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Toby inhaled deeply. “Do you ever think we’re just making this harder on ourselves? Pause button by day, sleeping in each other’s arms at night?”

Happy furrowed her brow. “I’d call that making it easier on ourselves.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I’m confusing myself,” Toby rubbed at his eyes. “I mean I want to be with you, I _know_ that, but Collins was right about one thing, I’ve got some major trust issues with you right now, and…I don’t know I think it’s kinda hard for me to get perspective on that when we’re going through the motions like nothing has happened. You know?”

“Collins…was right?” she hissed. Toby’s eyes snapped open. 

“Oh, God, Happy —”

“Collins and you opened up about your _trust issues_ with me?” she breathed.

“Happy, that was a terrible choice of words, I’m so —”

“Did you tell _Collins_ that the last time we slept together was the night before he took you?” she stood. “Did you tell _Collins_ that I’ve been so miserable I can barely sleep or eat? Did _Collins’s_ helpful advice cause that little incident last night? Because I don’t know what you remember, but that is not how I remember things being before.” 

Toby stood and turned her toward him. “Happy…oh, God, I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong.”

Happy took a breath. “Yes, it did.” She backed out of his embrace and turned on her heel, when her phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket. “My reminder to take the wood planer to the two-by-four.”

“For the points you earned today,” Toby said, eyes bright.

She nodded. “You know what? Nobody earns any points today.”

“Hey Walt,” Happy called into the darkened loft as she reached the top of the stairs. “I’m bunking with you tonight. Deal with it.”

“No,” Walter mumbled. “You cannot sleep here. I already changed these sheets. I’m seriously considering burning the mattress.”

“On your couch, dork,” Happy sighed as she plopped down on the sofa and tried very hard to think about anything but the last ten minutes.

* * *

Happy jerked awake a couple hours later, swearing softly as her brain reverberated her subconscious’s version of Collins taunting Toby when they were alone in that warehouse. She looked across the loft to see Walter sleeping soundly. She debated with herself for only a moment before sliding off the couch and padding quietly toward the stairs.

_Toby fought to keep control of his panic as Collins finished another line in his web. He watched as Collins crossed the warehouse and grabbed the last box of floss and a length of rope._

_“We’re gonna have to make a few adjustments before I put the final touches in place,” he said conversationally as he twisted the rope into a brand of noose. “Head back, Doc.”_

_“Collins,” Toby breathed, eyes wide. “Listen, don’t you think this has gone far enough?”_

_“Tilt your head back, Tobias.”_

_“Mark, you made your point, OK? Yours is the superior intellect, and I was an ass in that hearing yesterday,” Toby babbled, trying like hell to outrun imminent death, to keep from losing the only thing he’d ever had worth keeping — his relationship with Happy. “Just go, just leave me here, like this, or knock me out again, get a head start. This isn’t who you are, Mark.”_

_Collins reached for Toby’s head and Toby moved away as best he could. Collins tried again, and Toby repeated the action. “Mark, if you do this, you can’t take it back,” Toby all but shouted as Collins moved behind the chair. “You become a murderer. There is still good inside you, Mark, there’s still—”_

_Collins wrapped his hand around Toby’s forehead and slammed his head back with such force that Toby went still and silent for a moment, shell-shocked at the impact. Toby registered blinding pain in the back of his neck, and the world went fuzzy and gray. The scratch of the rope fibers digging into his forehead coaxed him back to full consciousness, but by then his head was completely immobilized._

_His blurry vision came back into focus on Collins hanging that jar of acid on the post above him. Oh, God, really?_

_“Mark,” he breathed, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Mark, don’t do this. Please don’t—”_

_Collins pretended to bobble the jar as he mounted it on the post, and Toby flinched. “If I were you, Doc,” Collins sighed. “I wouldn’t speak again. Not again.”_

Happy cast her eyes toward the couch as she downed the rest of her bottle of water by the fridge. Toby fidgeted in his sleep. That unmitigated ass. 

He moaned a little, flailed an arm. Happy rolled her eyes, tossed the bottle in the recycling bin in a perfect arc. She turned to head back up the stairs.

Toby screamed, so loud and terror-filled that he tumbled off the couch and into the coffee table in the same instant. Happy was so startled that she nearly screamed herself. She stood rooted to the spot as he fumbled for his bearings, eyes wild, making noise with every breath out. Before she knew what was happening she was on her knees beside him. He flinched, held an arm out instinctively to shield himself. 

“It’s OK, Toby. You’re OK, Toby.” A wave of overwhelming helplessness crashed over her, and her eyes stung. “Toby,” she reached for him again. “Toby, it’s Happy. You’re safe now.”

He slowly turned his head to the side, and in the next instant he crumbled with relief, sobs wracking his whole body. She wrapped her arms around him, tucked his head under her chin, and mumbled words…any words…all the words in her head, unsure what to do in a world where Toby was the one who needed the caretaking. His sobs quieted eventually, and as Happy cajoled him off the floor and back onto the couch, in the loft, Walter stepped back from the railing, satisfied his friends were safe and that his presence was no longer needed.

* * *

“It was something he said to me last night,” came Toby’s soft, haunted voice as he curled against Happy’s chest. “Something about that day at the warehouse. I’d forgotten. Walled it off, I think.”

Happy ran her fingers through his curls. “It’s okay.”

A tiny shake of his head. “I didn’t want to die. I wanted to be with you. I have never been as happy as I have been with you. I didn’t want to die. And I thought I was going to.”

Happy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You didn’t.”

“I begged him,” he said hollowly. “I panicked when I realized he was going through with it, and begged him not to kill me. I begged him for my life.”

“Toby, there are no…cool points for a situation like that. What else were you supposed to do?”

“Not beg him.”

“Toby,” she sighed, out of her element. 

“You know what the irony of the situation is?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just realizing now, he never intended to kill me. I mean, he would have been fine with that if it had happened, if you guys hadn’t gotten to me in time, but that wasn’t his goal. It’s this. _This_ is what he wanted.”

He drifted into a fitful sleep on her shoulder not long after that, leaving Happy alone with ceaseless thoughts. She opened her eyes to see the intersecting shadows from the windowpanes fall across the couch, across both of them. They taunted her, as ever, reminding her of Collins’ handiwork in the warehouse.

She shook her head and tightened her grip on Toby. How had it taken her this long to notice that they were _both_ caught in his web?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was extra heavy on the angst. I promise next chapter is going to have some adorable schmoop and fluff.


	16. I’m Giving Up on You, I’m Sorry that I Couldn’t Get to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘and i am feeling so small, it was over my head, i know nothing at all. and i will stumble and fall. i’m still learning to love, just starting to crawl.’ - a great big world, ‘say something’
> 
> Curtis Method, Rule 3: Be prepared to be rejected (again).
> 
> Toby and Happy struggle to connect as the weight of their respective emotional struggles bears down on them. In the meantime, Quintis and Waige are going undercover...on the high seas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back!!! I'm so excited! I decided to divide this part of the story into two chapters for length, so the good news is the next chapter is almost done, too!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_**Many, many moons ago, on ‘The Curtis Method’:** _

_“I don’t know, I feel like I’m confusing myself,” Toby rubbed at his eyes. “I mean I want to be with you, I know that, but Collins was right about one thing, I’ve got some major trust issues with you right now, and…I don’t know I think it’s kinda hard for me to get perspective on that when we’re going through the motions like nothing has happened. You know?”_

_“Collins…was right?” she hissed. Toby’s eyes snapped open._

_“Oh, God, Happy —”_

_“Collins and you opened up about your trust issues with me?” she breathed._

_“Happy, that was a terrible choice of words, I’m so —”_

_“Did you tell Collins that the last time we slept together was the night before he took you?” she stood. “Did you tell Collins that I’ve been so miserable I can barely sleep or eat? Did Collins’s helpful advice cause that little incident last night? Because I don’t know what you remember, but that is not how I remember things being before.”_

_……_

_Toby screamed, so loud and terror-filled that he tumbled off the couch and into the coffee table in the same instant. Happy was so startled that she nearly screamed herself. She stood rooted to the spot as he fumbled for his bearings, eyes wild, making noise with every breath out. Before she knew what was happening she was on her knees beside him. He flinched, held an arm out instinctively to shield himself._

_“It’s OK, Toby. You’re OK, Toby.” A wave of overwhelming helplessness crashed over her, and her eyes stung. “Toby,” she reached for him again. “Toby, it’s Happy. You’re safe now.”_

_He slowly turned his head to the side, and in the next instant he crumbled with relief, sobs wracking his whole body. She wrapped her arms around him, tucked his head under her chin, and mumbled words…any words…all the words in her head, unsure what to do in a world where Toby was the one who needed the caretaking. His sobs quieted eventually, and as Happy cajoled him off the floor and back onto the couch, in the loft, Walter stepped back from the railing, satisfied his friends were safe and that his presence was no longer needed._

_“It was something he said to me last night,” came Toby’s soft, haunted voice as he curled against Happy’s chest. “Something about that day at the warehouse. I’d forgotten. Walled it off, I think.”_

_Happy ran her fingers through his curls. “It’s okay.”_

_A tiny shake of his head. “I didn’t want to die. I wanted to be with you. I have never been as happy as I have been with you. I didn’t want to die. And I thought I was going to.”_

_Happy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You didn’t.”_

_“I begged him,” he said hollowly. “I panicked when I realized he was going through with it, and begged him not to kill me. I begged him for my life.”_

_“Toby, there are no…cool points for a situation like that. What else were you supposed to do?”_

_“Not beg him.”_

_“Toby,” she sighed, out of her element._

_“You know what the irony of the situation is?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“I’m just realizing now, he never intended to kill me. I mean, he would have been fine with that if it had happened, if you guys hadn’t gotten to me in time, but that wasn’t his goal. It’s this. This is what he wanted.”_

_He drifted into a fitful sleep on her shoulder not long after that, leaving Happy alone with ceaseless thoughts. She opened her eyes to see the intersecting shadows from the windowpanes fall across the couch, across both of them. They taunted her, as ever, reminding her of Collins’ handiwork in the warehouse._

_She shook her head and tightened her grip on Toby. How had it taken her this long to notice that they were both caught in his web?_

 

**Chapter 16: I’m Giving Up on You, I’m Sorry that I Couldn’t Get to You**

**‘and i am feeling so small, it was over my head, i know nothing at all. and i will stumble and fall. i’m still learning to love, just starting to crawl.’ - a great big world, ‘say something’**

_Curtis Method, Rule 3: Be prepared to be rejected (again)._

Happy was just beginning to stir on the couch, the chill created by Toby’s absence nudging her toward wakefulness.

“Doc?” she mumbled before flinching when she remembered his reaction to the nickname after his nightmare. She cracked her eyes open. “Tob—”

“Hey,” he said softly, and sat on the coffee table in front of her, face slack, eyes rimmed with dark circles. “Gotta rise and shine, Hap.”

“Mmmno,” she let her eyes fall closed again.

“Seriously,” he said, and she lifted her lids again. “Cooper and the others are on their way.” He held out a cup of coffee, and she pushed herself into a sitting position before taking it. 

“Mmm, perfect.”

The tiny reaction he gave her didn’t quite qualify as a smile. “Good. You should grab a shower before they get here.”

Happy looked him up and down. “You already did?”

He nodded. “I wanted to let you get a little more sleep.”

She tilted her face into her mug. “Did you get any? You look like hell.” She was trying to get a rise out of him, get him to tease her, scoff at her, something. It didn’t work.

“A little, thanks to you. And, um, and thank you. Last night.”

Her face hardened. “Don’t ever thank me for things like that, idiot.”

“I don’t mean it like that, like you did me a favor. I mean…I needed it. Needed you. And I’m grateful.”

Happy chewed one corner of her lip, stared into her coffee. “Then you’re welcome. You said you would tell me what you needed from me. Don’t forget to do that.”

“Well, apparently I didn't have to. You’re picking up on some of my skill set.” He heaved a breath, shook his head as he closed his eyes. “And speaking of being an idiot, Happy, what I said before we turned in last night…”

“No, I thought about that overnight,” Happy said, swiped at her forehead as she cradled her mug near her chin. “Toby…” she sighed. “I don’t like screwing up. And I screwed us up royally. I know …I mean I _know_ there are some…trust issues. It’s…understandable. It just wasn’t easy to hear. I mean, I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix it…it’s just a little hard to live with sometimes. The screw-up. Watching you take a step back, like you’re…like you have to protect yourself…from me. It wasn’t easy to hear that you had discussed…that you and Collins had—”

“We didn’t,” he pulled her knees between his, thumbs rubbing across them as he faced her. “Last night, that was an incredibly poor choice of words. We didn’t discuss anything except signing those stupid divorce papers; not you, not us. I would _never_. Happy, I see how hard you’re trying. And I know that this is difficult for you. I swear to you, I’m trying to get through this,” he waved one hand to the side, “stupid warehouse stuff as fast as I can, so we can work on us together. I am _so ridiculously_ in love with you, Happy, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you last night. He said some things in that jailhouse visit that messed with my head a little. I’m embarrassed about it, and I’m sorry. You were right. I had no business confronting him.”

Happy took a long sip. “What did he say to you? That got in your head?”

Toby shrugged. “Just mind game stuff. That non-stop double talk that worms its way into your subconscious and then goes off like a slow-motion bomb. You know, how he was that day at the warehouse.”

Happy sat up straighter. “I _don’t_ know how he was, actually. I never saw him that day, just those couple of phone calls.”

Toby blinked, paused. “Oh. Just…just stupid mind games, that’s all. I’m the moron who fell for it. And it won’t happen again.” 

Happy nodded in silent acceptance of the apology. 

“I love you, Happy.”

“I love you.” She inhaled sharply and stirred. “I should hurry. We’ve got a case.” She stood, tilting to look at his face when he remained seated on the coffee table. “You’re sure you’re OK? You look…”

Toby nodded. “Just kinda beat.” 

She deposited the coffee mug in his hands. “You should drink this. It’s good.” She took a step back, hesitated, then closed the short distance between them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped one arm around her legs and leaned his head into her chest. After a moment she planted a quick kiss on top of his head. “I hope you feel better soon.” And she disappeared up the steps to the loft.

Toby watched her go, thinking that a few weeks ago, that display of affection and thoughtfulness would have delighted him. Maybe, beneath the bone deep exhaustion and his anxiety about the next day or two, it still did. He just wished he could feel it.

* * *

“Gilberto Santiago, native of Colombia, and heir to one of the largest drug cartels on the planet,” Cooper said as the group gathered around the monitors.

“And member of Homeland’s Most Wanted list,” Cabe added.

“Why would a Columbian drug lord be one of Homeland’s most wanted?” Paige asked.

“Because he’s not a drug lord _yet_ , he’s a drug lord in the making,” Tim said. “His father runs the cartel in South America, but for the last 10 years, Santiago has been laying the groundwork for and running a U.S.-Mexico branch.”

“Santiago has taken the cartel’s operations and moved them into the 21st century,” Cooper said. “His branch of the cartel is operating with the most advanced tech, and he employs a small army of morally bankrupt techies and hackers to cover his tracks well.”

“We know he’s bringing drugs into the U.S. at a staggering rate, but we can’t prove it,” Tim said. “His electronic defenses have been impenetrable.”

“Why haven’t you brought us in to try this before?” Walter said.

“Because we don’t just want to jail Santiago for a one-off drug charge. Guys, the worldwide Santiago cartel makes La Plaga looking like a band of Girl Scouts,” Cabe said. “We don't want Junior.”

“You want to cut the head off the beast,” Sylvester said.

“That’s right,” Cooper nodded. “We want to put malware on his network that will be undetectable to his team, and let them continue regular operations.”

“Until you gather enough intel to be able to take them all down,” Happy said.

“In conjunction with law enforcement entities in Colombia, Mexico and all the countries in which they operate,” Cooper said. 

“Well, to do so without detection would require directly hacking one of the machines that will be placed on the network,” Walter said. “I’d need a few hours to work up the bug.”

“That’s part of the reason we came to you,” Cooper said. “We needed someone who could hack, and fast. But there’s another problem. Santiago is infamously reclusive, lives on a large estate with world-class security. He’s virtually impossible to get to. Even when he travels, he usually has a security detail that rivals heads of state.”

Toby nodded. “You’ve caught wind of an opportunity in the offing.”

“Santiago and his wife Maria are booked, under aliases, for a cruise that’s departing L.A. at midday.” She slid a brochure across the table to the group.

Paige shook her head. “Surely he’d take security on the cruise as well.”

“Not this time,” Toby said, eyeing the brochure. “‘Conscious Commitment: A Luxury Retreat for Couples Who Want to Choose Each Other.’ There’s trouble in paradise for the Santiagos.”

“Exactly. We’ve been over the manifest and crew log thoroughly. There’s no security detail. And we know Santiago is a workaholic and control freak…he will bring some sort of tech to keep him connected to his operations.” Cooper took a steadying breath. “This may be the only opportunity we’ll get for years.”

“So we’ll need more than just a world-class hacker,” Cabe said. “We’ll also need to be able to bypass any security measures — locks, alarms, the like, and we’ll need top-notch behavioral analysis and the ability to provide distractions and maintain the deception. And, any time we’re going undercover, people skills are a must.”

Walter, already banging on his keyboard, grunted. “Sending us aboard as crew should give us all the access we need.”

“Not enough time, we’re hours from setting sail,” Cooper said. “But we were able to book some last-minute reservations.” She cleared her throat. “Walter O’Brien, Paige Dineen, Toby Curtis, Happy Quinn: Get ready for couple’s therapy.”

* * *

“OK,” Happy came back to the table. “Sly’s working on the fake IDs per my instructions.”

“All right, so let’s talk backstory,” Toby said. “Going undercover on short notice is tricky business. None of us have had time to get our minds around this. The fact that there will be some strong personal themes and conversations doesn’t make it any easier.”

“We’re not _actually_ going for couple’s therapy,” Walter said, never looking away from his laptop. 

“Walter, I think you underestimate how insistent these people can be,” Toby rolled his eyes. “This is a comprehensive therapy experience, designed to make the less, shall we say, cognitively robust feel like they’ve succeeded in saving their marriages before they even get back home. There are multiple private couple’s therapy sessions, but in between, there will be all these…forced sharing opportunities. We’re not going to be able to avoid everything.”

“So what’s the plan?” Happy asked, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

“The personas Homeland set up for us use our real first names, which is good…it will help us avoid slip-ups. Generally speaking, it’s best to stay as close to reality as you can without risking blowing our cover. It’s really going to help that we’re, you know, actually together.”

Paige raised her eyes from her dossier. “I just assumed Walter and Happy would be paired up…so she could take out the security measures and Walter could plant the code on Santiago’s machine.”

Happy felt an unfamiliar — and unpleasant — sensation wash over her. “You…you were thinking you and Toby?”

Toby gave Happy a quick glance, but was already shaking his head. “It’s not a great idea, Paige. If we had some time to work together, but…I mean could you imagine these two trying to pass themselves off as a couple?”

Paige looked from Happy’s steely gaze to Walter, immersed in coding oblivion. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Happy felt the unpleasant sensation intensify.

“Part of the approach is that we’re supposed to fill out these online surveys about our relationship dynamics,” Toby sighed. “There’s a link in each of our e-mail accounts. We’re supposed to complete them individually, detail our perspective on what’s working, what’s not. Supposedly they’ll use these to customize the therapy experience.”

“So we’ll just…click things,” Paige said. “What does it matter?”

“We’ll have to attend at least some of these group sessions to avoid attracting too much attention…it’s best to keep that as close to reality as possible, on the off-chance once of these guys is a decent therapist. They’ll pick up on the deception. Plus, you know, practically speaking, the truth is the easiest thing to remember.”

Happy read through the survey questions on her phone. “Oh, man.”

Toby nodded. “Yeah. Which brings me to my next awkward point. Walt, Hap.”

They both looked at Toby.

“Everybody there is in a failing relationship. This is a desperate last-ditch attempt to save it, but they’re also trying to save face. Everybody is going to be going out of their way to seem happy and in love when they're in public. The two of you are going to have to push yourselves to be a little more physically demonstrative, and a little more outgoing.”

Walter and Happy exchanged a look.

“Just…” Paige laid a comforting hand on Walter’s elbow. “Just take your cues from us.” She looked at Happy. “And watch the people around you.”

“Doc,” Cabe said, and Toby was pleased when he kept his flinch mostly stifled. “As a career law enforcement officer, I’d be a little suspicious about that cut on Paige’s face, especially considering this a boat full of unhappy couples.”

“It’s worse than that,” Toby said, examining Paige’s healing cut from her ordeal with the hackers on their last case. “Even if no one suspects a domestic issue, the cut will make her memorable, and that’s the last thing we want.” He pulled back. “It’s almost closed up. I’ll pick up a few things and we’ll try to cover it.”

“Okay, everybody, pack a few personal items and your gear only, “Cooper said. “Homeland is providing cruise-appropriate wardrobes in your sizes considering the time crunch. If you can get the job done before the ship makes its first port-of-call at Cabo San Lucas tomorrow, you’ll walk off the ship for some sightseeing, get in a Homeland car and come straight back here.”

“Which puts us tomorrow late afternoon, minimum before we get back here,” Toby ground out. 

“It’s gonna be fine, Doc,” Cabe chided.

“This is not a great time for me to leave town, Cabe.”

“What’s going on?” Walter asked.

Toby gave Cabe a look. “Nothing.”

“Kid, there’s nothing for you to do here. Go do good in the world instead of sitting here fretting about it.”

Toby worked his jaw. “Everybody get those surveys filled out ASAP.” He stood, effectively ending the planning session.

“Tim, Sly and I will be on coms from here,” Cabe said. “You guys are being picked up in less than three hours. Be ready.”

“Hey,” Happy appeared at his desk a moment later as he threaded his messenger bag across his shoulder. “You, um, OK?”

“Yeah, I’m just…you know,” he waved his hand instead of finishing the sentence. “I’m gonna run pick up some stuff for Paige’s face. You need anything?”

Happy shook her head. “Do you?”

His features softened, but he didn’t answer. He stepped around the desk, pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Thanks for asking,” he said into her skin. “Listen,” he pulled back. “I know this is gonna suck, for you and Walt especially.”

“And you. I can’t think of anything you hate more than being forced to spend time with sub-standard therapists.”

Toby raised his eyebrows. “This is true. I’ll be back.”

When the door closed behind him, Happy approached Cabe. “I need a favor.”

“For you? Anything, kid.”

“Can I…tell you something in confidence?”

Cabe nodded.

“Toby’s not doing OK. He’s having nightmares. Like…major nightmares. They terrify him. And I know it’s connected to whatever the hell Collins did and since Toby snuck into the jail to see him, it’s only gotten worse.”

“I noticed how exhausted he looked,” Cabe nodded. “I hate to hear it, but I imagine it’s to be expected.”

“Cabe…he’s not talking to me. To any of us. He said he would, he said he was responsible for asking us for help and support, but he doesn’t.”

“Bottles, huh?” Cabe arched an eyebrow. “Remind you of anyone you know?”

“I’m not the one with the thing right now,” Happy protested. “I realized this morning…I don’t really know what he went through with Collins. What it was like from his end of it.”

Cabe shook his head. “Oh, kid, I—”

“Do you think I could get a look at the statement he gave the LAPD?”

“It’s evidence. It’s restricted to—”

“Look, I am never going to be the kind of person who can imagine what another person is feeling. I need more data to understand what’s happening to him and I’m afraid—” She cut herself off, brought her knuckles to her mouth. “Sometimes it’s like he’s not even Toby anymore, Cabe. Somebody’s gotta do something, and, yeah, maybe this isn’t it, but it’s the only idea I’ve got, so…”

Cabe nodded. “Let me think about it.”

* * *

Toby sat in silence on the couch, accompanied by the ticking of the clock on Bissell’s wall. “Thanks for working me in.”

Bissell nodded. “Sure.”

“I, um…seem to not be feeling very talkative.”

Bissell tilted her head. “I get paid either way.”

Toby snorted. “The sleep disturbances are getting pretty intense.”

“I can see that.”

“Mmm, of course you can,” Toby acknowledged. He twisted his mouth as he fought for words. “And I let some of the stuff he said when I saw him in jail get in my head. And in the aftermath, I hurt Happy.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she accept?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let it go.”

Toby inhaled through his nose. “I’m getting really sick of this.”

“I don’t doubt it. Are you sick enough of it to make yourself move toward the pain?”

Toby rolled his eyes. “What the hell have I been doing all this time if not that?”

“Trying to think your way out of it. Toby,” she leaned forward. “No matter how big your brain is, you cannot think your way around this. We know now about the panic responses to which you’re most prone, and we’ve tried it your way, taking your IQ points and ramming them straight into the face of the trauma. Let’s try a little desensitization and reprocessing.”

Toby shook his head. “I would, Michelle, really. But I’ve already talked myself through all the scripts for EMDR. Clearly it hasn’t worked.”

“You can’t practice therapy on yourself, Dr. Curtis. Why don’t you let the other Harvard shrink give it a try? I promise you I’ll put enough twists on it that I’ll keep you on your toes.”

Toby quirked a corner of his mouth at her. “Challenge accepted.”

* * *

Cabe approached Happy’s workbench. “Listen, kid…that statement…I’d love to help you, but it’s evidence in an ongoing criminal investigation, and it would be illegal for me to show you. I’m sorry.”

Happy felt something hit the toes of her work boots. She looked down to see a large envelope at her feet. She looked back up at Cabe.

“Speaking of which, would you keep an eye out for an envelope of mine? I’ve misplaced it, and I want to find it again within the hour. Some sensitive documents.”

Happy nodded. “I’ll look for it.”

“You’re the best, kid,” he smiled at her and backed away. Happy scooped the enveloped off the floor and headed for the alley.

* * *

“Close your eyes.”

Toby complied.

“I want you to imagine that everything you experienced in that warehouse is a physical item you can put on the table in front of you. A block, a slip of paper, a ball, whatever works for you.”

Toby exhaled slowly.

“Lay these experiences on a table in front of you, one by one. The violation of Collins knocking you unconscious and snatching you out of your life, the fear of coming around tied to that chair. Each and every conversation you had with him. The phone calls with the team,” she watched as Toby folded his lips around his teeth. “Don’t relive them, Toby, just gather them on the table in front of you.” She watched as he forced a deep breath. “That trick with the car battery you thought was real, that damned acid, the neck injury, the belief that you were going to die right there in front of Happy and the rest of your friends. The conversation you had in the jail.”

Toby inhaled and exhaled again. “Got it.”

“Now I want you to imagine a container you’re going to put these things in.”

“Got it.”

“Make your container big enough to —”

“Michelle, I’ve got it. The container should be big enough to hold everything I need to put in it,” Toby ticked off on his fingers the standard therapist’s instructions for this kind of visualization. “It should be strong enough to contain all the experiences until I am ready to take them back out. There should be a two-way valve to allow me to take the experiences out one-by-one when I am ready to examine them, instead of all at once.”

“Don’t get ahead of me, Toby.”

He opened his eyes. “Keep up, Dr. Bissell.”

Bissell took a breath. “What does your container look like?”

Toby furrowed his brow. “Um, in my head it’s cylindrical. The valve is at one end.”

“How big is it?”

Toby shrugged. “About the size of a duffel bag. The experiences are all 3-by-3 inch blocks.”

Bissell raised her eyebrows in interest. “Are they a certain color in your mind?”

“Yellow.”

“Hmm. The color most strongly associated with fear.”

Toby blinked. “Holy hell.”

“Told you I could keep you on your toes. Load the blocks into your container and seal it.”

Toby let his eyes dropped closed again. “Done,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Now, are you ready for the first twist?”

Toby blew a puff of air through his nose. “Impress me.”

“Flip the container over in your mind. There’s another valve at the other end. Turns out your container has two compartments. This compartment is for the trauma related to your recent experience with Happy.”

Toby’s eyes flew open. 

“That’s why this has been so overwhelming for you. It’s not just hurt, it’s just just betrayal, it’s not just anger. The loss of what you had between you, the notion that maybe you never had it in the first place, that has been its own kind of trauma, Toby. Let’s work through it as such. Close your eyes again.”

Toby dragged a hand down his face and complied. 

“Look at the table again. You’ll see a new set of blocks. They’re red, the color of love. Also the color of pain. They represent the proposal. Her leaving that night. The secret she kept from you. Her failure to consider your feelings. Her failure to reciprocate completely the things you gave her. Put them in the other compartment of your container and seal it.”

Toby nodded. 

“The container has a strap on it. Take it and throw it over your shoulder. You’ll have to carry these things for a while, Toby, but you are in control of them. You will work through them one-by-one, at a time of your choosing. When you start to feel overwhelmed by any aspect of the trauma, remember that each of these experiences is inside the container, where they will remain until you choose to take them out. When you’re ready, open your eyes.”

Toby raised his eyes to Bissell’s.

“Assess how you feel now compared to how you felt when you got here.”

Toby considered this for a minute. “Less craptastic. I’ll be damned. Advantage, Bissell.”

“Keep this image in your mind as you go on your case, and until we meet again. Hell, consider throwing your anxiety about tomorrow in the kidnapping side of the container if you want.”

“How the hell do you know about tomorrow?”

“Isn’t that why you’re so agitated?”

Toby slumped against the back of the couch. “I need to be here in case they need me to—”

“You absolutely don’t. You _shouldn’t_. Just sit back and let others do the work while you focus on _your_ job.”

“I sat back and let others do the work, Michelle, and that got me kidnapped and nearly killed.”

“Not this time, Toby. And whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

* * *

“Hey!” Tim called as Toby stepped back into the garage. “Just in time. Wardrobe is here. That’s your suitcase,” he nodded at the bag by Toby’s desk, “and you need to change into this.” He shoved a garment bag against Toby’s chest. “ _And_ I need you to talk to Happy.”

“Why?” Toby peeked into the garment bag. “Oh, God, did they send her—”

“A suitcase full of uber-girly dresses,” Tim nodded. “She’s been ranting about chauvinism since the moment she looked in the suitcase. Paige tried to talk her down, and got a motorcycle helmet chucked at her for her trouble.”

“Alright,” Toby shrugged out of his jacket. “I’ll put this on and go talk to her.”

“So, um, I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring this up when she freaked over the dresses, but…” Tim pulled out two ring boxes. “It’s an important part of your cover.”

Toby opened the boxes and shook his head. “Man, this case is taking the awkwardness to new heights.”

“Sorry, man.”

Toby pulled one wedding band from the box and slid it onto his ring finger. The metal chilled his whole body. “She’ll be ready in twenty,” Toby said. “Make sure Walter and Paige are ready, too.”

* * *

On a crate behind the garage, Happy flipped Toby’s LAPD statement closed and propped it on her drawn-up knees. She shook her head at the empty alley. She thought she knew Mark’s mind games, but the way he’d dangled the marriage in front of Toby’s face, made him worry, then made him think it was nothing, knowing all the while that if Toby survived he’d eventually find out, the way he’d talked non-stop about how he was going to kill Toby, the way he’d formulated that acid and strung that godawful web while Toby watched. Combined with what wasn’t in the statement, what he’d told her after the nightmare last night about begging for his life…and then a couple hours later, she’d taken the hell he’d been through and raised it to a whole new level. How the hell was he dealing with _any_ of this?

The door opened and Happy grabbed the document, shoved it back in the envelope.

“Oh, Honeysuckle Blossom?” Toby called.

“I’m not wearing that getup,” she said.

“Hey, if I’m wearing this getup,” he gestured to his pink and green plaid shirt, khakis, and linen sport coat, “you can wear your getup.”

 She looked up at him a pang of something she couldn’t describe lanced through her. She felt a powerful impulse to wrap him in her arms and keep the world away from him so nothing could ever hurt him again.

Toby saw something flicker over her face. “What?”

Happy shook her head. “You look like a Tommy Hilfiger ad. Dr. Toby Childers is a dork.”

“Yes, he is,” Toby looked down at himself. “And he married himself a proper Ralph Lauren lady, so get in there and transform into her already. I mean, look at me. You know this guy can’t handle a bad girl.”

“I seriously think that stuff will melt my skin.” Toby blanched, just slightly, but Happy saw. “Oh, Toby, I’m—”

Toby waved away the apology, stepped on her sentence. “Greater good, Happy. You know you want to take this guy down.”

Happy stood, tucking the envelope under her arm as they headed back into the garage. “Swear you won’t make suggestive comments about the damn thing.”

“I absolutely will not.”

“Hey,” she turned, her hand on the door handle, and searched his face. Damn, she wished she could read Toby the way he read everyone else. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Toby rocked on the balls of his feet. “Well, I am now, but once I get a load of you all dolled up—”

“End of conversation,” she turned on her heel.

* * *

Happy came stalking into the bullpen in a long purple flower-print sundress with a white cardigan and strappy sandals. She tossed a shopping bag at Cabe. “I’m not wearing the floppy hat, Homeland can kiss my ass.”

“Fair enough.”

She handed him the envelope with Toby’s statement. “And I think you dropped this.”

“Oh,” Cabe nodded. “Thanks, kid, I was looking for that.”

She heard a low whistle behind her, but his voice didn’t quite have its trademark lilt. “Is it hot in here, or is it _you_ , Sweet Cheeks?”

“I am not in the mood, Toby.”

Toby waved away the admonishment. “Getting into character. Toby Childers makes corny, slightly objectifying remarks like that to his lady. Speaking of which…” he gestured toward the ramp and Happy followed.

“I know this is awkward,” Toby sighed when they were alone as he pulled the ring boxes from his pocket. “But we need to look the part.” He waved his wedding band at her and opened the boxes.

Happy froze when she saw the engagement ring. “Is that…the one from when you…”

“No,” Toby said. “No, Homeland sent these.”

Happy nodded, eyes welling momentarily as she pulled the rings from the boxes. 

“Happy…the one I…your ring looks completely different from…how could you think…”

“I didn’t see it,” Happy said, then sniffed. “I mean, I did, I know I did, but with everything that was happening I couldn’t focus on it enough to…I don’t remember it.” 

Toby slumped against the wall. “Oh. Oh, OK. I…sorry.”

Happy shook her head, fumbling with the rings.

“No, wait,” Toby took her left hand in his, pulled the diamond engagement ring from her finger. “The wedding band goes on the bottom.”

Happy furrowed her brow. “How? The engagement ring would be worn first.”

Toby shrugged. “You switch them around after you marry. It’s tradition. Don’t ask me how the hell I know that. I have so much useless, counterproductive crap in my brain, it’s…” His hands stilled as he slid the wedding band just past her knuckle. He slowly pulled his hands away. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you…”

“Yeah,” Happy said, sliding the jewelry into place.

“Happy?”

She looked him in the eye for the first time since he’d produced the rings.

“Do…you want to see it?”

She pressed her lips together tightly, and her eyes grew glassy. “Not right now. Hopefully I’ll get to see it when…hopefully you’ll ask me to wear it again one day. When I can accept it.”

Toby took a breath, sidestepped the remark. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Happy dropped her eyes, disappointed he didn’t state outright intent to propose again one day. “I can tell you’re trying to get geared up for this case, but you still look tired.”

Toby reached down, took her left hand in his, thumb brushed across her knuckles. “I am. You do, too.”

Happy shook her head. “I’m fine. Just…like I said this morning, just let me know if you need anything.”

* * *

“Love is a reflex. Being with the person you love is a choice,” the speaker said to a crowded ballroom on the ship. “By being here today, each of you has chosen to take the first step in staying with the person you love, ideally, for a lifetime. Congratulations!” The ballroom erupted in applause so loud the speaker had to shout despite his microphone. “Let's get started on step two together!”

“Yes,” Walter drawled from the back of the ballroom. “Congratulations to us all. Let's find an opportunity to get to Santiago’s state room and get on with it.”

“I am gonna hurl if I have to listen to this psychological horse hockey for 24 hours,” Toby sighed from the row in front of Walter and Paige. 

“Settle down,” Paige said. “It may not be Harvard caliber, but there’s a lot of truth to what he said. Love is a reflex; making a go of it with the person you love,” she linked her arm with Walter’s, “is a choice.”

“Happy, hold my hair back, I'm gonna puke now,” Toby bent forward dramatically as the meeting ended. Walter and Paige broke off, filing out of the ballroom as if they didn’t know Happy and Toby. 

“You don't believe that?” Happy said. 

“Oh, the basic tenets are fine, but does he have to wrap it in quite such a thick layer of smarm?” Toby griped, then caught sight of Happy's expression. “Oh. Oh...that...something about that resonated with you. I see.”

Happy shrugged. “Maybe it’s dumb.”

Toby dropped his head. “No, maybe _I’m_ dumb. Happy,” he laid a hand on her knee. “I’m not fit for man nor beast today. Ignore me.”

“We’re _all_ trying to ignore you,” Sly’s voice came over the coms. “I’m having no luck finding Santiago anywhere in the crowd, even though the passenger manifest shows he and his wife checked in under their aliases.”

“He’s going to avoid the group activities, makes him feel vulnerable without his entourage,” Toby said as he and Happy read the cruise schedule from the welcome packet in the nearly empty ballroom. “Which means he’ll also avoid the upcoming getting-to-know-you lunch in the main dining room.”

“Oh, shoot me now,” Happy muttered.

Toby dropped a comforting hand to her knee. “Sly, these rotating individual couple’s exercises that are happening all afternoon, see if you can find out when they’re scheduled for those. That’s when he’s most likely to be out of his room.”

“And in the meantime, we should all probably mingle,” Paige’s voice came over the coms, followed by Walter’s grumbling.

“Mingle,” Toby sighed resignedly before opening his hand toward Happy. She slapped her palm in his and he pulled her to her feet. “You ready for that?”

“Sure. I decided to use a fake accent to keep myself entertained.”

Paige gasped over the coms.

“You’re not—no. Paige, _nobody_ is using a fake accent on this trip,” Toby snapped.

“Dammit,” Paige whined.

“You had to get her started?”

Happy shrugged, smiled up at him, but he didn’t return it.

“OK,” Toby sighed as he and Happy headed for the ballroom door. “Let’s go mingle, Mrs. Curtis.”

It took two steps before Toby’s exhausted brain processed his mistake. Two full seconds of radio silence over the coms, and two silent paces from Happy alongside him. Toby squeezed her hand once, but didn’t look at her. “Mrs., um, Childers. Sorry.”

“S’ok,” Happy muttered, looking in the other direction. 

He rubbed his thumb against hers. “Sorry, Hap.”

* * *

“This is fun,” the blonde at Walter & Paige’s table chirped. “I love icebreakers.” While they waited for lunch to be served, the group had been instructed to take turns drawing a name and a question from the two stacks of cards on the table. The person whose name was selected answered the relationship-themed question on the other card. “So let’s see,” the blonde said as she selected her two cards. “My question is for…Walter.” 

Paige jabbed Walter in the leg when he visibly grimaced.

“And the question is…how did you meet…” she glanced at Paige’s nametag, “ _Paige_ and was it love at first sight or did the chemistry take a while to develop?”

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight,” Walter blurted. “It’s a notion subscribed to by romantics and fools. It’s not real.”

“ _Aaaaaand_ here we go,” Tim said.

Toby dropped his napkin and and bent to the floor. “Walter,” he whispered harshly, “You are the biggest jackass in a room that includes _me_ today. Just talk about the day you met her.”

Walter took a breath. “We, um, we met at a diner in L.A. Paige,” he looked over at her and smiled. It was reflexive anytime he thought about that day. “Paige was there with her son, who was 9 at the time. Actually, I suppose I bonded with him first.”

“Absolutely you did,” Paige laughed. “It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for me. I told him off that day.”

“She did,” Walter said. “And, knowing me, it was probably with good reason, but…by the end of the day I think we both…felt differently about each other.”

“The end of the day?” the blonde asked.

“We ended up spending the next several hours together,” Walter said, to the delight of those seated at his table. “So, no, I don’t believe in love at first sight, but…” he looked to Paige, reached over to take her hand on impulse. “I think it’s safe to stay that there was… _something_ there from the beginning.”

* * *

“Hmm,” Happy said softly.

Toby raised his eyebrows in silent agreement.

“OK…Happy. What a great name,” the woman across the table said, then switched to her second card. “When did you first realize that you were in love with…” she looked at Toby’s lapel, “Toby.”

Happy glanced back at Toby on instinct, and he gave her a smile and draped his arm around her in subtle support. Happy swallowed. Every set of eyes around the table was boring in to her. Stay as close to the truth as possible, Toby had advised.

“We, um, we met at work. We worked together. And we were friends for several years before we ever…before there was anything more between us.”

“Oh, come on,” another woman at the table said. “Years? There is huge chemistry here,” she swung her finger between them, “it’s obvious.”

Happy could practically hear Toby gloating about his recommendation that they not switch partners for the case for increased authenticity.

“No, it’s true,” he chimed in before Happy could continue. “I was actually engaged to someone else when we met.”

The words left Happy’s mouth before she thought better of it. “And I was married.”

A chorus of _oohs_ echoed around the table. Happy felt Toby stiffen beside her. She didn’t dare look back at him. “But not happily. Anyway, Toby and I, we were friends for a long time, but eventually, there was…the possibility of more.”

“Who made the first move?”

Happy sighed. This was like death by a million paper cuts. “Technically, he brought up the subject first,” Happy said. “But I was scared of…screwing us up,” she trailed off. She felt Toby’s thumb sweep across her shoulder gently.

“Exes leave emotional baggage,” the woman to her left said. “Tell me about it.”

_Lady, there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell you about that._ Happy forced a polite smile that felt like it would leave cracks in her face.

“So…” the woman across the table said. “When did you realize you were in love with him?”

Happy shook her head to clear it. _You can't tell the truth. You'll sound like a circus freak. Say something. Anything. Anything that makes you sound...normal._ “Um…we had to go on this…trip for work, it was…really cold outside. Blizzard conditions.” She rolled her eyes. “I got separated from the group and then I got lost. And Toby went after me.”

Six sets of eyes focused their unwavering attention on her. 

“He, uh...by the time he found me, I'd already lost consciousness. Hypothermia.” She felt Toby's arm tighten around her. “Fortunately, he, um, he's a doctor. A great one. He kept me alive until they could find us.” Experimentally, she let her hand rest on his leg, a move she'd always considered too much PDA. But it did seem like something a normal would do. “Almost got himself killed in the process.” She went still and silent, mind wandering. 

“And that's when you knew?” the woman who'd read the question asked. 

Happy nodded. “When I realized I wasn't dead, when I realized what he'd been willing to...what he almost...I realized...yeah. That's when I knew.”

Every woman at the table sighed, while every man looked thoroughly impressed.

“Way to ruin for the rest of us, man,” one of the guys grumbled. The table erupted into laughter. 

“Hey,” Toby said, forcing a demeanor that made him look endlessly pleased with himself. “Go big or go home.” He pressed a kiss into Happy's hair. “Thank you,” he said softly into her ear. “And that was good.”

Happy nodded, relieved to be out of the crosshairs. 

* * *

“As a reminder, your personal itineraries will direct you to the room where you’ll have your first individualized sessions this afternoon,” the announcer said as the lunch ended. “We’ll meet back here tonight at 8 for our New Beginnings Banquet.”

“OK, guys,” Sly’s voice boomed through the coms. “Looks like Santiago and his wife have just checked in under their aliases with for their first session. Their state room should be clear for at least 45 minutes.”

‘Told you they’d avoid the group activities,” Toby said, taking Happy’s hand and heading toward the nearest ballroom exit.

“Time to go to work,” Walter muttered. “Let’s grab our gear and meet in stairwell C.”

“Can I help you folks?” One of the staff politely blocked Happy and Toby’s path as they tried to exit the ballroom.

“We’re good, thanks.” Toby began to press ahead.

The staffer stepped into his path again. “The, ah, therapy sessions are that way, sir.”

“Actually,” Toby squared his shoulders and pulled Happy a little closer. “My wife isn’t feeling well. I’m a doctor; I want to take her back to our state room to lie down.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” the staffer said.

“I’m sure it’s just a little bug, but she needs some rest.”

“We’ll send the ship’s doctor around to your state room immediately, and then, your therapist for Session 1 will conduct the session there. Provided you feel up to it.”

Toby had to fight to keep from clenching his jaw. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Doctor, um…” the staffer brought his phone quickly to the bar code on Toby’s name tag and tapped the screen a few times. “Dr. Childers, Mrs. Childers. May I share something with you? This is when we lose most of our participants. That’s why all the individualized sessions are mandatory, _that’s_ why that’s part of your contract. Nerves are natural. But you’ve both come this far. If you’re truly not feeling well, Mrs. Childers, we are happy to make other arrangements for any sessions you need to miss. But if you’re at all feeling up to it…you’ve come this far. Be willing to choose each other.”

Toby stepped backward toward the crowd, pulling Happy with him. “Walter, Paige did you guys—”

“We just got turned away at the door,” Paige said. “They’re only letting people out through the exits that funnel towards the rooms where therapy is being conducted.”

“Sly,” Happy said into her coms. “What the hell did he mean, ‘mandatory’?”

“We’re pulling it up now,” Cabe said. “Looks like attendance at all individual sessions is required, and considered agreed to by signing the registration papers. It says complete commitment to the therapy process _—”_

“Is necessary to reach your goals,” Toby sighed. 

“What are we going to to do about accessing that computer?” Walter sniped.

“You’re going to have to make another try for it later,” Tim said. “The banquet tonight doesn’t look like it’s required, or we’re going to have to wait until Santiago leaves him room when the ship makes port and there’s no required therapy.”

“This is ridiculous,” Happy said, pulling Toby back toward the exit. “What are they gonna do, tackle us?”

“No,” Toby dug his heels in, tightened his grip on her hand. “It’ll attract attention. Not the kinda thing you want to do before you go breaking into somebody else’s state room.”

“Tim’s right,” Paige said. “We’re going to have to try again later. And in the meantime,” trepidation crept into her voice. “I guess…”

“Welcome to couple’s therapy prison,” Toby muttered.


	17. Sometimes the Hardest Thing and the Right Thing Are the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for couple's therapy, a high-seas case, and a Waige secret to be revealed! Angst ahoy! XXL chapter alert!

**‘maybe you want it, maybe you need it, maybe it’s all you’re running from. perfection will not come…sometimes we’d never know what’s wrong without the pain.’ - the fray, ‘all at once’**

_Curtis Method, Rule 8: When a wall is put up, climb it. How else are you going to get the thing on the other side?_

* * *

 

“OK, Happy, Toby, welcome to Session One, which we like to call ‘Communication Station.’”

“Oh, my God.” Toby rolled his eyes skyward.

“A little corny, we admit,” the therapist acknowledged. “But we like to keep it light around here. The purpose of this session is to practice our communication skills. We need to be able to communicate to our partners when we would like them to do something a little differently.”

* * *

“I have excellent communication skills,” Walter griped in a room down the hall.

“Sweetie,” Paige said, jaw clenched tightly. “Everyone could always stand to improve.”

* * *

“OK, team, sounds like you’ve got this under control for now, we’re gonna cut coms,” Cabe said. “Turn them back on when you’re out of these sessions.” He tapped Sly on the shoulder and the audio went silent. “May God have mercy on those therapists.”

Sly and Tim nodded solemnly.

* * *

  
“Toby,” the therapist said, as Happy and Toby faced each other. “Let’s start with you.”

“I don’t…have anything for this. Really.”

“I’m not telling you to jump into the deep end here, I’m saying, let’s start with something small. An annoying habit, a small quibble.”

“We don’t have small quibbles,” Happy mumbled. 

“Everybody has small quibbles,” the therapist said. “Maybe something we feel like is too small, too petty to bring up.”

“Seriously,” Toby said. “Happy’s right. With us, it’s always big stuff.”

“Huge stuff.” Happy nodded.

“Remember the surveys you completed before coming?” the therapist pulled his tablet onto his lap. “We have a specialized algorithm—”

“Which is complete hokum,” Toby snarled.

“Which provides us with detailed personality sketches for you both,” the therapist continued, undeterred. “Your results show that you have strong alignment on core values, intellect, and lifestyle, but Toby, you’re strongly extraverted, while Happy, you’re highly introverted.”

“Duh,” Happy grumbled.

“Toby, you’re verbally oriented, Happy, clearly, you don’t express yourself that way, in fact, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to express yourself at all. Someone who isn’t adept at reading nonverbals could miss important cues from you.”

“You’re telling me,” Toby sighed. 

Happy’s eyes widened in disapproval.

“Guys, these kinds of differences are bound to create little conflicts. Toby, you’re telling me you’re never frustrated by the fact that Happy is less verbal, less openly affectionate?”

Toby sighed. He _did_ advise sticking closely to the truth for purposes of their undercover mission. Maybe he needed to take his own advice.

“She’s affectionate in private,” he said. “Look, you have to _get_ Happy. It doesn’t bother me that she’s not lovey-dovey. It doesn’t bug me that she makes smart-ass remarks at or about me all the time. I don’t care that her organizational system is bizarre, because she doesn’t expect me to keep my stuff that way. I don’t care that she smells like motor oil half the time, because she loves engines and she’s great at them and I would never want her to give that up. I don’t care that she struggles to express herself verbally, because she’ll do it when I ask her to. I don’t even care that she jabs me when she’s annoyed, because I understand what she’s trying to communicate and why. It’s just…you have to _get_ Happy. And I do. At least I thought I did. With us, it’s only the big stuff.”

“You’ll talk about big stuff next session,” the therapist said, and took a deep breath. “Happy, what about you?”

“No,” Happy said. “Like Toby said, it’s always the big stuff for us.”

“I mean, do we even belong here?” Toby said to her. “Before things blew up in my face, we were getting along perfectly.”

Happy blinked. “You think so? _Perfectly_?”

“Say more about that,” the therapist said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Happy looked at the therapist, then back at Toby. “It’s not. But…he laid it on a little thick in the beginning. Love notes and all-night texts and—”

“I’ve gotten much better about that,” Toby said.

“You have,” Happy said. “Even though I have to remind you sometimes,” she quirked a corner of her mouth at him. “But if we’re supposed to mention things we think are too small to mention?” Her eyes bounced between Toby and the therapist again. “I could use a break from the nicknames, you know?”

Toby shook his head. “ _No._ ”

“Toby,” the therapist said. “Let’s try to receive that openly.”

“I am receiving that openly and rejecting your request. You need the nicknames.”

“Pretty sure I don’t,” Happy said.

“Happy, say more about the nicknames,” the therapist prompted.

“How long do we have?” Happy said. “He calls me Hap sometimes, that’s…fine. The rest of them are really out there. Sugar Plum, Honey Bear, Kitten, Lamb Chop, Pookie, at Christmas he was calling me Peppermint Mocha, what was the one you used this morning?” She snapped her fingers. “Honeysuckle Blossom. I mean, are you kidding me?”

The therapist swung his gaze back to Toby, rendered speechless.

“It is intentional hyperbole to illustrate a point.”

“What point?” the therapist asked.

“That I love you, Happy Qui—Queen…Childers.” He transitioned awkwardly into her alias for the case.

Happy threw her hands up. “Then just say that!”

“It is important that you hear it in more than one way. You never heard it growing up, and you still don’t fully believe it, still don’t fully believe _me_. Which is at the root of the whole problem anyway.”

“We’re really doing this?” Happy breathed.

Toby looked at the therapist and then back at her. “Why not? We’re here.”

“You said you needed to wait—”

“Happy, we’re here. We may as well.”

“Fine. Then I hate the nicknames, Toby. Just say ‘I love you.’”

“Too bad.”

“This is great,” the therapist said in sing-song. “This is a perfect way to illustrate compromise. Happy, is there a nickname you like?”

“No.”

“Is there one you find less objectionable?”

Toby snorted. “No.”

“Let Happy answer,” the therapist held up his hand. “Happy, Toby has expressed to you that the nicknames are his way of communicating to you that he loves you. He wants you to feel loved. He wants to be free to express that love in more than one way. Can you compromise in providing him with a nickname that you don’t mind as much?”

Happy was silent, picking furiously at the upholstery on the sofa. 

“Happy, meet him halfwa—”

“Oh for God’s sake,” she slammed her eyes shut. “I like Sweetheart!”

Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

“I like…Sweetheart. A little bit.”

“I thought that would be the one you hated the most.”

Happy shook her head.

“Why do you like it?” the therapist said.

“I like…it just makes me feel good, I guess. Nobody ever called me that before. And when he says it…I mean the nicknames are stupid, but he _does_ mean them. Plus, you know,” Happy shrugged with one shoulder, looked at Toby’s preppy shoes. “Your Brooklyn accent always surfaces when you say it, and I kinda like that.”

“I don’t…” Toby breathed out, completely overwhelmed. “You like my Brooklyn accent?”

“Shut up.”

“I…OK. I can…focus on Sweetheart, I guess.”

Happy gave him a genuine smile. “Good.”

“Happy, anything else?” the therapist asked.

“No,” Happy said. “I mean, I also like…Baby, but…only sometimes.”

“Wha…,” Toby slumped in his chair, dazed. “ _What_ times?”

Happy cast a sideways glance at the therapist. “Naked times.”

“Ah…um…what we were talking about?”

“Do you think you could let up the nicknames if Happy agrees to the ones that mean the most to her? She’s already said she doesn’t mind Hap, that she’s fond of Sweetheart, and that she’s partial to Baby during intimacy. I’d say that’s a good start to compromising.”

Toby swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Yes. Yes, I will take that under consideration.”

“Well,” the therapist clapped his hands together loudly. “I think this has been very productive. Great start, Team Childers!”

* * *

 

“OK, gang,” the therapist for Session Two said. “So are we clear on my instructions? I want each of you to write on these slips of paper the biggest points of contention between you right now. These should be the things you are really struggling to work through, the things that are keeping you from being happy in the relationship. Don’t hold back, and don’t discuss your answers with each other now. I’ll give you a few minutes and then we’ll get started. Fold the slips of paper and place them in these two bowls when you’re done.”

“So, um, I see you’re taking your ‘keep it real’ undercover strategy pretty literally,” Happy said  when the therapist left. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just decided. We were on the spot and I just decided to go with it. I don’t know…do you not want to?”

“I’m just so damn confused again. All you’ve been saying since you finished with that fit-for-duty eval is that you needed to take a step back from us.”

“I know, and I know you’re confused. I’m jerking you back and forth here, and I’m sorry for that. I also know you want us to work on…I mean, Happy,” he lowered his voice. “We’re stuck here for the next few hours. We’re not on coms. We may as well…do you want to just try? Just, while we’re here?”

“How do we know that’s not going to make the stuff from the warehouse worse?”

Toby’s mouth fell open. “God, I’ve got you saying it now.”

“What?”

“‘The warehouse.’ My euphemism because I hate saying kidnapping and hostage situation. I’ve got you to the point you avoid saying it too.”

Happy shrugged. “Toby, whatever you need to feel better, that’s fine by me. If that means calling it ‘the warehouse’, I’m good with that.”

He exhaled, dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know if it’s going to affect that or not. But we’re here, and we never expected to be. Let’s just try. And then we’ll play it by ear going forward? I mean I know you don’t like talking, much less to a stranger—”

Happy shrugged. “I said I was going to earn you back. If this is what it takes, what do I care? They’re just strangers.”

Toby felt one corner of his mouth turn up at her. “OK then.” He nodded at the slips of paper in her hands. “State your grievances.”

“Okay, gang, I’m told you had a strong start in Communication Station this morning,” the therapist said as she returned and closed the door behind her. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear it. Now, buckle up. Because this is Honesty Hour, and Honesty Hour is where the rubber meets the road.”

Happy and Toby exchanged looks before they went back to writing.

* * *

 

“Remember, this session isn’t about solving every problem in front of us,” the therapist said. “This is about identifying and exploring the issues that need the most attention. I’m not your regular therapist, so I’m not even going to understand the context for most of these issues, but that’s OK — what’s important is that you hear each other, and I can help with that. Okay,” she nodded to herself as she went through the slips of paper. “I think have some things we can work on here.” She turned her hands up. “Happy, I’d like to start with you, if that’s OK.”

Happy nodded.

The therapist held up a slip of paper. “Why don’t you think Toby can forgive you?”

Happy shrugged. “I think maybe…I think maybe what I did was unforgivable.”

“Happy,” Toby shook his head.

“Pause button or not, sooner or later we’ve got to get down to brass tax, Doc,” she said. “I keep asking myself if I could forgive you if our positions were reversed. If you’d done what I’d done. And I just don’t see how I could get past something like that.”

“The part that you think is unforgivable isn't even an issue for me. Happy, there were extenuating circumstances. You handled it poorly, and I’m the one who got hurt. But as soon as I’m able to get past this other stuff, we’ll sort through this. The part I want you to be sorry for is the part that you seem to think was completely OK — the secrecy. Happy I think…keeping what you kept from me, I think it may have been selfish, but it wasn’t malicious. I can work past it, I just have to deal with this other stuff first. I wish you wouldn’t drive yourself crazy about it in the meantime. I still love you. That’s not gonna change. We’ll get there.”

“We aren’t here to do a deep dive on issues, so I won’t ask either of you to go into detail,” the therapist said. “But tell me this, are you angry at Happy, Toby?”

“Oh, I’m pissed,” Toby nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll always be. I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Happy.”

“Happy,” the therapist said. “Setting aside for a moment Toby’s forgiveness…do you think you can forgive yourself?”

Toby watched Happy’s eyes become glassy as she tucked her chin down. “You can say I only need to be sorry for the secret, not the thing itself. But the thing itself is at the root of the problem, Doc. You just said it yourself. I handled it poorly, and you’re the one who got hurt. If I hadn’t…if that hadn’t happened, none of what’s happened to you the last few weeks would have occurred. Not the…the warehouse. Your physical injuries, the other stuff you’ve been dealing with, things between us. We can beat around the bush, but I’ve done the analysis.” She looked over at Toby. “Every last horrible thing that has happened to you these past few weeks is my fault, one way or another. You don’t have to say that for me to know it’s true.”

“Happy, that isn’t what I meant when I said I was the one who got—”

“I know,” she nodded. “It’s what I meant.”

“So it that a no on forgiving yourself, Happy?” the therapist asked.

“Like I said,” she cleared her throat. “Some things are unforgivable.”

The therapist nodded. “Toby, I think you named a topic that may be apropos at this point,” she held up another slip of paper. “Talk about why you worry about whether you know everything about Happy.”

Toby and Happy stared at each other for a long moment. “I am not a sharer, Doc. I never will be.”

“That’s fine with me. But Happy, eight years you carried this secret. You never went to anyone for help, not when it was happening, not when it was about to back up on us more recently. If I’d known, years ago, I could have helped. If you’d told me before you had no other choice…I’m not saying I wouldn’t have needed a minute, but…I would have understood. Maybe you don’t believe that, but I do. And now…how am I going to know if you’re in trouble again? How am I going to know if something is about to blindside us?”

“I’ll tell you,” Happy said. “I promise I’ll tell you. This was just the worst…I just couldn’t handle…there’s nothing else like this hiding out there, Toby.”

Toby nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. But what assurance do I have?”

Happy shook her head. “I guess you _don’t_.”

“You’re right. That’s a problem for me, Happy. And I don’t know what the solution is.”

“Right. Your major trust issues.”

“I apologized for that, and I’m still sorry.”

They fell silent, stared each other down. 

“Toby, you mentioned having a concern that Happy doesn’t ask for help when she needs it,” the therapist said, then held up a slip of paper. “It seems Happy has the same concern about you. Happy, would you talk more about that?”  
Suddenly, Happy felt very claustrophobic. She had the urge to bolt, and she realized with mild panic she was surrounded by open sea.

“Talk to me,” Toby read the fear in her eyes. “It’s OK. I wanted to do this.”

Happy turned sideways on the couch, hating the damned sundress that wouldn’t let her cross sit cross-legged like she wanted. She parted the fingers on both hands and ran it through her hair, stopping when her hands reached the base of her skull. She looked over at the therapist, then shut her eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know,” his voice joined her in the darkness. “I know you’re worried. I’m gonna be OK, Happy, it’s just gonna to take a little time.”

She knit her brows together. “You said you were going to need help getting through this.”

“I _do_ need help getting through this.”

“You said you were responsible for asking for help from me.”

“I am.”

Happy opened her eyes. “So why won’t you ask for help?”

“What are you talking about? I ask you for help all the time!”

“No, you don’t. You don’t ever ask, and when I ask you… _anything_ , you give me vague answers. You apologized for making the trust issues remark, but the truth is, you don’t even trust me enough to ask me for help with this stuff from the ware—”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Our trust issues aren’t that I don’t trust _you_. You don’t trust _me_. It’s why you never told me you were married to him. It’s why you wouldn’t date me for so long. It’s why the pause button is driving you crazy. You don’t trust me to stick with you, and you’re so ready for me to leave that you can’t even see that I am _holding on to you for dear life_! Happy, I am not a carburetor that you can take apart and put back together. This,” he turned the fingers of both hands into his chest, “this isn’t mechanical damage. It’s like a cut, a burn, a broken bone. It has to heal over time. So when I ask you to stay with me, to talk to me, to let me sleep beside you…that may not feel to you like you’re doing anything, but Happy, the only place in the world I can get any peace these days is in your arms.”

Happy gaped. “ _That’s_ all you want?”

Toby spread his hands. “I’m sorry I can’t cook up anything more complicated for you. Happy, I _am_ asking,” he laid his hand over hers. “And you’re coming through every time.”

Happy chewed on her bottom lip. “Then what’s eating you today? You haven’t been OK since last night.”

“It’s…it’s just something on my mind. Nothing to do with you, or us…”

“Then—”

“Happy, there are times that I need to talk about it and there are times I need to try to be present in the moment, to focus on what I’m doing…and that’s what I’m trying to do now.”

Happy turned to face forward, crossed her arms over her chest. “Your need to be present in the moment in the last few weeks has landed you unconscious in a hospital and in a prison confronting a lunatic. Do you think you’re the only one wondering if there’s something else you need to know?”

* * *

“Our first sessions have been intensive,” the instructor said as she paced the deck by the pool. Each couple perched on side-by-side lounge chairs. “And it’s important to pace yourself. So for this session, we’re going to dial it back a bit. Welcome to Connection Reflection. This exercise is about being with your partner with minimal talking, and exploring the bond that is physical, metaphysical, and spiritual.”

“Walter’s gotta be about to have a seizure,” Toby mumbled. 

Happy craned her neck to see Walter and Paige across the pool. “He looks like someone made him bite into a lemon.”

Toby snickered.

“Face your partner, take both their hands in both of yours, and for the duration of this session, look into the eyes of the person you chose as your partner and consider this cherished connection. This is a time to ignore all distractions — that’s why we asked you to check your phones and other tech for this session.”

“Which Happy nearly got herself an assault charge for,” Toby whispered.

“Shut it.”

“This is not a time for verbal communication; we’d like you to keep that minimal,” the instructor continued. “Focus on communicating without words.”

“Right up your alley, Happy.”

Her eyes cut into him. “What about my face tells the genius shrink I’m in the mood to joke around?”

Toby took both her hands in his as the couples around him mimicked the gesture. “Happy, you can’t beat this stuff to death. We need a break. Allow yourself to unclench for a minute.”

Happy blew a puff of air through her nose. “I haven’t unclenched since you dropped off the radar the night he took you.”

Toby’s face went slack with surprise.

“Ready?” the instructor raised a hand. “You may begin.”

* * *

Walter stared into Paige’s eyes, blinking unevenly. “This is odd,” he whispered.

“It’s supposed to be romantic. And spiritual. Shhh,” Paige admonished.

“Then it’s also completely ineffective.”

“As has been the rest of the afternoon.” Paige arched an eyebrow.

Walter shook his head. “I thought we were just trying to maintain our cover.”

“We are. But it’s kind of ironic. Here we are struggling with a couple of issues of our own at the beginning of a relationship and—”

“The desire to communicate verbally is expected, but minimize it if you can,” the instructor said softly as she passed.

“And we find ourselves here,” Paige finished in a whisper.

Walter ran his thumbs along hers, blinked rapidly. “Even with my low EQ, I know there is a source of deep awkwardness between us. I’m trying to fix it, but nothing I’ve tried so far seems to be working.”

“It’s not just you,” she assured, glancing up to make sure they weren’t attracting the attention of the instructor. “It’s me, too.”

Walter’s brow furrowed of its own accord. “But, you’re so much more experienced in these matters.”

Paige arched an eyebrow. “Careful with the silver tongue of yours.”

“Oh no!” He said loudly, before flinching, looking around, and dropping his voice. “That’s not what I meant, I meant —”

“I know,” she smiled. “I’m having a little trouble with…I seem to be…anxious.”

Walter tucked his head down as the instructor passed again. “Second thoughts? About us? We did start under very…intense circumstances, Paige, I would understand if you felt in retrospect it was the heat of the moment.”

Paige made eye contact with the instructor, shook her head. “Opposite,” she whispered when the instructor looked away. “I just want this…want us…to be perfect. You’re too important to me.”

Walter’s face stretched into a smile, which Paige mimicked.

“Perfection is impossible,” he said. “Trying for the impossible is illogical. Perhaps we should…discuss a realistic goal we both find agreeable?”

The instructor bent down, placed her head between Walter and Paige. “This is great collaboration, but perhaps you should discuss that after Connection Reflection.” She stood up after a polite smile.

Paige made a face, and Walter bit his lip, then tilted his head. “Huh.”

Paige shook her head. “What?”

“I used to think your face was completely symmetrical, but your right eye is approximately 3 centimeters higher.”

Paige rolled her eyes skyward and Walter tensed.

“But, um, in a way that I find aesthetically pleasing.”

* * *

 

Despite the instructions, Happy had kept her eyes downcast most of the exercise, and Toby had gone along with it, stroking his thumbs over her knuckles. Then the deck trembled beneath them without warning. It was slight, several of the passengers startled, looked around at each other. Toby’s eyes immediately went to the nearest crew members to gauge their reactions, but he looked away when Happy squeezed his fingers. “It’s fine,” she said. “We hit debris.”

Toby raised his eyebrows. “That’s comforting.”

“Something relatively small,” she said. “It’s not a big, empty ocean, Toby. It’s probably plastic, most marine debris is; something that fell off another vessel, some cargo, or maybe trash that was intentionally tossed off a fishing ship. She’s a big girl, she can handle it.” She tilted her head to the side, her ears performing their own diagnostic. “It’s in the aft propellers. It’s getting chewed up.”

Toby noticed then, the difference in the distant splashing coming from the back of the ship. He turned toward the noise, but it ceased seconds later, and and the rougher vibrations went with it. “Well I guess that’s it.” He turned back to happy to see her staring blankly.

“Hap? Is that a problem?”

“What?” she looked up. “No, we’re OK. Whatever it was is destroyed.” Her eyes glazed over again.

“Hey, what’s going on? Happy,” he tugged on her hands as the ship’s crew assured everyone that what had occurred had been routine, just as Happy had said. “Happy, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“You said I let you walk into a propeller. The morning after you proposed.”

Toby blinked. “Yeah.”

“All this time you’ve been saying I’m apologizing for the wrong thing. That the secrecy was the bad part for you. You meant…that finding out the way you did was like…was like what happened to that debris. That it reduced you to a million little pieces. That it was…destructive. Irreversible. That my not telling you…did that to you _. I_ did that to you. I destroyed you.”

“Hey,” he leaned forward, heedless of the reminder of the instructor, rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hands. “It’s OK. Really. It wasn’t malicious. I know that now. I was still reeling that day. I just…I need to get past it. And I will. Soon.”

Happy rolled her eyes, and tears came to balance on her lower lids. “I never meant to…I didn’t tell you because I thought _that_ would…how is this ever going to work if I don’t know how to _not_ accidentally destroy you? What kind of future is that to look forward to?”

“Happy,” he let go of her right hand to brush a tear from the corner of her eye. “I hear you telling me that you meant well. And it was a tough situation, incredibly tough. I…it’s OK, alright? I know you didn’t mean for that to happen. It was just tough for me.” He waggled her hands with his. “It’s gonna be OK, alright?”

“I just…I was trying to figure out a way _not_ to hurt…” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I let you walk into a propeller. I really am.”

Weeks he’d wanted her to apologize for taking his heart and stomping on it, reducing it to complete rubble. Weeks he’d wanted her to do more than apologize, he’d wanted her to _be_ sorry, to actually _feel_ guilty for what she’d done to him, instead of just trying to get him to stop being mad. He’d wanted her to feel badly for prioritizing him lower than her saving face. For not trusting him to understand her situation. For putting him after her precious pride. 

And now she did. And as he looked at her now, watched her internalizing the nature of the way she’d hurt him, he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought her regret would make him feel better. 

If anything, he just felt worse.

* * *

Happy dropped wordlessly onto the couch before the next session, waiting silently for the therapist to join them.

“So, um,” Toby rubbed his palms along his stupid khakis as he sat next to her. “Gratitude Exchange. What do you suppose Wally Boy is gonna work up for this one? ‘Paige…gratitude is not something I’ve ever felt, but I understand the technical definition, and if was capable, I believe I would occasionally feel it directed toward your general…location.’”

He was sure the joke had fallen flat, but one corner of her mouth quirked up after several beats of silence. “‘Your dedication to efficiency is most appreciated, not just at the office, but in the bedroom.’”

“Hey,” Toby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s blow this one off. Go back to the state room. We’ll get food. Lie down. Who cares if they send the ship’s doctor by?”

Happy narrowed her eyes at him. 

“It’s been…a lot this afternoon, Happy. For both of us. Let’s stop while we’re behind, huh? Recharge before we have to go back to work?”

Happy shrugged. “This is the last one before the…stupid banquet thing tonight. Besides, how are we ever going to get past this,” she waved her hand between them, “if we can’t get through one afternoon of dumb couple’s therapy exercises?” She shook her head. “How are we ever going to get past this at all, for that matter?”

Toby leaned toward her as the therapist’s voice grew louder in the corridor. “Do you love me?”

Happy looked over at him. “Yes.”

Toby nodded as the therapist closed the door behind him. “And I love you. I do, Happy. _That’s_ how we get past this.”

* * *

Paige let out a low whistle as Happy and Toby descended the stairs to the landing where they’d agreed to meet. “Look at you, Hot Mama!”

“That’s what I said.” Toby buttoned his suit jacket. “Save yourself the trouble, she hates everything about that dress.”

“It’s not the dress,” Happy said, checking the fit of her outfit. “It’s that it’s the wrong attire for the job. I have tools and lock picks shoved places that tools and lock picks just shouldn’t be.”

“And by that, she means, on my person,” Toby did a strange little dance. “Damn lock picks are jabbing me in the kidney.”

“Paige and I are doing espionage in stilts,” Happy waggled a shoe at Toby. “Your kidney will get over it.”

“While I agree that the cocktail attire is inefficient,” Walter groaned as he zipped his bag closed and threw it over his shoulder. “Toby’s recommendation was a sound one. These cruise staff are aggressive. If we get rounded up and sent to the banquet it’s best that be in clothing suggesting that was always our intention. Guys?” he pressed his com into his ear. “Where are we?”

“Hold your position,” Tim said. “We don’t have eyes on the Santiagos in the ballroom yet.”

“Doc,” Cabe said, and Toby hid his flinch well, but Happy still saw it. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Santiago’s personality profile reveals a person who thrives on flattery and recognition. An invitation to sit at the captain’s table will get them to the banquet, even if they’d hadn’t planned to attend originally. Give it a minute. He’s probably just fashionably late. Hey, Cabe, do you have any intel on…tomorrow? Time?”

Cabe sighed into the coms. “Nothing definitive. Looks like it will be early. I need your head in the game now, Doc.”

Toby turned his palms out, despite the fact Cabe couldn’t see him. “My head is nowhere but in the game. I’m capable of holding more than one thought in my head.”

“What’s this about?” Happy asked.

“What?” Toby shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, nothin’. Unrelated. Personal matter.” He shifted his gaze to Walter. “So, how’d you like couple’s therapy, 197?”

“It was horrific.”

“Preach,” Happy sighed.

“You people,” Paige groused. “You could learn a lot from the principles they taught today — open communication, self-awareness, conscious expression of gratitude and fondness that might otherwise go unspoken. Toby should conduct group sessions for us. Might improve our _efficiency_ ,” she leaned toward Walter with a flirty grin.

“Really?” Happy blurted before thinking better of it. “You think Toby is the model of openness? Are you paying attention, Dineen?”

Toby went ramrod straight. Paige looked to him and back to Happy. “I, um…it was a joke, Happy. Sorry.”

“OK, gang, looks like the Santiagos are entering the ballroom now, you are clear,” Sylvester said. “Enter his deck and take your first right, his state room will be near the end of the corridor on the right.”

Walter led the way down the flight of stairs to the access door, but Toby caught Happy by the elbow. “Hey, what was that about?”

Happy squared her shoulders. “Time to work,” she said. “I’m really trying to stay present in the moment here.”

* * *

“This is taking a while,” Walter grumbled over Happy’s shoulder.

“Well, you know what they say,” Happy never took her eyes from the key card slot on the door to Santiago’s room. “Literally breathing down my neck will probably make things happen faster.”

From his position around the corner, Toby scowled. “You pick up that verbal skill in Communication Station this afternoon, Walter?” He leaned around the corner to glare down the hall. “Give her some room. She’s got it.”

“Then let her get it,” Walter cut his eyes at Toby down the corridor, never moving from his position hunched over Happy as she worked. “She is in charge of dismantling security measures, I am in charge of hacking and being the boss,” Toby rolled his eyes, “and you and Paige, at this moment, are in charge of being lookouts.”

“Speaking of lookouts,” Paige cut in over coms, “We’re clear in the aft corridor, but housekeeping is on the port side and slowly working its way starboard.”

“It’ll be fine,” Happy said to the key card slot, then smiling briefly as the lock flashed a green light and she pushed it open a fraction of an inch, then slid a small mirror through the crack. “Santiago hung out the do-not-disturb sign, which, sadly, I believe, does not bode well for us.” She continued to run the mirror along the door frame. “But I’m not seeing…anything. No additional security measures on the door whatsoever.” She looked over her shoulder at Walter.

“Maybe his security’s all in his laptop encryption,” Walter said, jerked his head toward the door for Happy to proceed.

“Guy like that?” Toby pressed his finger to his ear, came around the corner again to put Walter and Happy in his line of sight. “No way. His profile indicates he’s incredibly cautious.  Be careful, Happy.”

Happy met his eyes momentarily, nodded, then inched the door open.

“Sly,” Toby said. “Keep eyes on Santiago at all times. If he checks his phone, his watch, anything could be a sign he’s alerted to a breach.”

“Looks like right now he’s enjoying dinner conversation,” Sly said.

“More than enjoying…” Tim leaned over Sylvester’s shoulder in the garage to stare at the images from the cruise ship’s security cameras. “Is he flirting with that woman when his wife is actually _at the table_?”

“On a couple’s retreat cruise…tell me this guy’s not a megalomaniac,” Toby said, eyes on the closed door to Santiago’s room, which Happy and Walter had entered. “Guys, how’s it coming in there?”

“Uh…not good,” Happy said. 

“Really not good,” Walter said.

Paige appeared at the other end of the corridor, exchanging a look with Toby. “You guys OK in there?”

“We’re fine,” Walter said. “But we’re gonna need to regroup.”

Toby and Paige each hurried to the door. “We’re coming in,” Toby said. He slipped in the room behind Paige to find Happy and Walter shoulder-to-shoulder several paces into the room, staring at Santiago’s laptop on a desk. “What’s the problem?”

Happy raised a small aerosol can and sprayed a fine mist toward the desk. A network of lasers appeared over and around the desk. Any attempt to reach for the laptop would disrupt it, presumably alerting Santiago. 

“You can’t deactivate that?” Toby said as the mist settled and the lasers disappeared. 

“I can,” Happy nodded, swallowing. “But there’s a transmitter connected to the laser network, here,” she knelt and pointed to the small box under the desk. “Now, I can’t say for sure _what_ that does, but if it were me, I’d rig it to alert me to any interruption in service. Could be as simple as a power failure—”

“Or could be that somebody is trying to bypass your mobile security.” Paige said. “We’ll be found out.”

“OK,” Toby pulled his hands down his face, exhaustion permeating his bones. “Every problem has a solution. How would he deactivate this thing?”

Walter shook his head. “Most likely through his phone or smartwatch. Happy can bypass without that, but then he’ll get the alert. To stop the system from sending an alert, we’d need his phone or watch in close proximity.”

“We’ve been here before,” Toby said. “I could pick his pocket, but to get back down here, and then return the item without him noticing…Walt, I just don’t know if it’s possible.”

“It’s not,” Happy said. “You’re not going to pickpocket the drug lord in training.” 

Toby turned his palms to her. “I know I could get it, the tricky part is if he realizes it’s gone or catches me when I try to slip it back—”

“No, Doc,” Happy shook her head, bordering on desperation. “I like your throat un-slit.”

Toby nodded. “‘Kay,” he whispered.

“Sly,” Paige ran a hand through her hair. “Could you and Walter spoof his phone?”

“Only if I could physically handle the phone for a few minutes,” Walter shook his head. “Same problem. Cabe,” he sighed. “I’m not sure we can do this without detection. I think I can plant the bug before he’s able to get down here, but he’ll know something has happened. We could bail over the side, he’d never think anyone would do that —”

“Yeah, because it’s crazy, Walt,” Happy snapped. “Even if we survived the fall, we’d be shark bait before Homeland could get someone to us.”

“Not to mention the fact that Santiago will know someone at least _tried_ to do something to his computer,” Sly’s tense voice boomed over the coms. “If this guy is this cautious, Walter, he’s going to switch out machines. He’ll likely never put that one back on his network, and then it was all for naught.”

“All right,” Cabe said. “That’s a no go. I’m not risking any of you. Walter, have you explored every option?”

Walter nodded, even though Cabe couldn’t see. “Dammit,” he whispered. “I’m three feet away. It would take 45 seconds.”

“Live to fight another day, Walter,” Cabe said.

Toby scratched the hair on top of his head furiously. “So, so there’s no way to stop the signal from being sent, but is there a way to stop it from being received?”

Walter’s eyes went wide as he turned to stare at Toby. “Sometimes I forget how brilliant you are.”

“All the time,” Toby said. “All the time you forget my brilliance.”

“More words, please, for those of us who aren’t as brilliant,” Paige said.

Happy raised a finger. “Toby hit on something that just might work. When we turn off the network, the signal will be disrupted, but if we hack a phone,” Walter pulled his from his pocket and popped the back cover off as Happy spoke, “to emit an identical signal and put it in close proximity of Santiago, it can serve as a replacement signal until we restore the laser network.”

“I’m gonna need to be there,” Walter said as he manipulated his phone with Happy’s help. “We’re throwing this together so the signal won’t be stable, I’ll have to maintain it manually. That means you’ll have to do the hacking.” He looked at Happy. “It’s just a few lines of code. Sly can talk you through it.”

Happy froze momentarily, swallowed.

“You’ve got this,” Toby nodded behind Walter. 

Happy reflected the gesture, met Walter’s eyes. “I’ve got it.”

Walter nodded, closed his phone. “Paige,” he turned to her. “I’d be honored if you accompany me to the New Beginnings Banquet.”

* * *

“All right, we’ve got eyes on Santiago,” Paige whispered into her com. “Looking for an in.”

“Well, hurry it up, already,” Toby said. “Happy and I are hanging out in the state room of a drug lord.”

“Walter,” Paige said. “Adam and Bonnie from lunch today are sitting within feet of Santiago. 

“How does that help?”

“I’ll get Bonnie away from the table for a little girl talk, you go take her seat and chat up Adam about a double date later in the cruise. That will allow you the proximity to Santiago you need.”

Paige caught Bonnie’s eye and motioned toward the bar. Bonnie winked at her and stood. Paige shoved Walter forward. “Go.”

“‘Kay,” Walter furrowed his brow. “Wait,” he turned around. “I don’t want a double date with them.” 

“Oh for God’s sake, Walter, we’ll be off the ship tomorrow if this works,” Toby said. “Go make a friend. If you know how.”

Walter took Bonnie’s seat at the table and began awkwardly chatting up Adam, and Happy disconnected the laser network and began planting the spyware on Santiago’s computer with Sly’s help.

“I appreciate the rescue,” Bonnie was saying to Paige at the bar, “however momentary.” She shook her head. “It was Awkward City over there. I love Adam, I do, but…” she took a long sip of her drink. “When did things between us get to the point that we don’t know what to say to each other? The only time things feel normal between us is in bed.” She covered her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. Is that how it is for you and Walter? Does the sex seem normal, despite the…well, whatever it was that brought you here?” She gestured around the ship.

“Sex?” Paige said, voice suddenly strangled. “I…yeah, I know what you’re talking about. We may be out of step these days but sex…that’s working just as well as it always has. Which…is well. Very well.”

“Now, if we could just get them to talk to us, we’d really be on to something,” Bonnie smiled and clinked her glass against Paige’s.

“Boy, wouldn’t we?” Paige smiled weakly.

“Oh, my God,” Toby whisper-screamed into the coms. “You’re not doing it!”

Walter knocked a fork off the table and bent to retrieve it. “I am doing it,” Walter muttered, “Sly and Happy need to get on that installation.”

“Not that, 197.”

Paige sneezed and turned away. “Shut up, Toby,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

“What?” Happy whispered to Toby, shoulders raised in question, eyes never leaving Santiago’s laptop. 

“Nothing,” Paige assured, a little too obviously.

“You OK?” Bonnie asked.

“Doc,” Happy hissed. “What isn’t he doing? Are we getting found out here?”

“No! Not him,” Toby whispered, hands waving uncontrollably. “ _Them_. Walter and Paige, they’re not doing it.”

Paige faked a coughing fit and stepped away, holding a finger up to Bonnie. “That’s ridiculous,” Paige cackled on the edge of desperation. “Toby, you are way, _way_ off base, OK?”

“Oh, my _GOD_ ,” Happy whispered to Toby, eyes wide as saucers. “They’re not doing it.”

“This conversation is over,” Paige said, sounding closer to tears than anger.

“What are the three of you even talking about?” Walter said after bending to tie his shoe. “Auxiliary signal is stable and…wait. Are you talking about…Paige, are they talking about _the physical intimacy_?” Now, it was Walter’s turn to whisper-scream.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Toby smiled for the first time all day. 

Walter froze, then put the phone to his ear after pretending to have an incoming call and turning away from Adam. “Well, you are wrong about that, because Paige and I have done that. Done..it. Been intimate.”

Toby and Happy huddled in the Santiago’s state room, hands clapped over their mouths. “Little thing they taught us at Harvard,” Toby said, voice still strained with stifled laughter. “People who’ve done a thing don’t feel the need to reassure others three times in one sentence. Also, if calling it _physical_ _intimacy_ wasn’t a dead giveaway, putting the article _the_ in front of it would have been.”

“Oh, God,” Paige sighed, face hot under her palm.

“Status, Walter,” Cabe’s voice crackled through the coms.

“Doing it, or so he would have us believe,” Toby snarked.

“Literally wishing I was dead,” Walter deadpanned, “And not for the first time today. Hang on.” He pulled the phone from his ear as Santiago stood at the next table. “I’m sorry,” he turned back to Adam. “I’ve gotta take this outside.”

He chased after Santiago, desperate to keep his phone in range of the auxiliary signal. “Sly, help,” he whispered.

“Happy, Toby your window’s closing!” Sly shouted. “Santiago’s heading for the elevators!”

“Are we found out?” Toby asked.

“He hasn’t looked at his phone or watch,” Tim said. “Looks like he’s just stepping away. His wife is still at the table, they spoke briefly before he stood. But it still looks like your window is closing, get out of there.”

“We’re in good shape,” Happy said. “Installation is done.” She shut the laptop. “Just need to re-engage the laser network and…what the hell?”

“What?”

“I’ve got no power. I’ve got no…there’s a damn short!”

“Can you fix it?” Toby shrieked.

She pushed his jacket aside and pulled another couple tools from his pockets. “Yes. In time? That’s another story.”

“Walter,” Paige ripped her heels off as she entered the stairwell. “You’ve got to stall Santiago.”

“Hold the elevator!” Walter called, wedging his hand between the doors. He pressed a floor button at random and leaned against the back of the elevator, looking for something to start conversation on. Then he saw it — Santiago had his wife’s purse in his hand. He gestured at the bag. “Women, huh? I’ve been sent back to our state room for a sweater.” He shook his head. “My wife is the most cold-natured woman on the planet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Santiago said, and Walter tensed. “Since my wife holds that title.”

Walter forced a laugh.

* * *

“Hap, how’s it coming?” Toby was bouncing off the walls behind Happy. 

“Fine,” she said around tool in her mouth. “But too slowly.”

“Happy, Toby, unless Walter can stall Santiago, you’re going to cross paths, in the corridor if nothing else, and that doesn’t bode well if he notices anything is off before you get off the ship,” Sylvester said.

 Toby slammed his hands together. “We need another plan.” He looked around. “Keep workin’, Hap.” With that, he bolted from the room.

Paige emerged from the stairwell as Toby ran past. “Find me a room service tray somewhere,” he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Anything you can get.” Paige nodded and ran in the other direction.

It only took Toby a moment to track down the lady from Housekeeping Paige had spotted earlier. “Excuse me,” he forced himself into a slower stride as he rounded the corner. “Could you please leave some extra towels in the room at the end of the hall?” He pointed down the hallway, used his other hand to lift the housekeeper’s master key card. “Last room on the right.”

Paige emerged into the main corridor with a tray of half-eaten strawberries. “What do you think?”

Toby thanked the housekeeper and closed the distance between them. He discarded most of the dishes and rearranged the remaining strawberries on a smaller plate. “You’re an artist, Paige Dineen. Let’s go.”

* * *

“So, um, how are the accommodations on Deck 4?” Walter said awkwardly.

Santiago’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure they’re approximately the same as on Deck 6.” He pointed at the illuminated button Walter had pressed.

Walter nodded. “Right.”

* * *

 

Toby and Paige burst back into Santiago’s state room. “Foot of the bed,” Toby nodded to Paige. “And get me glasses.” He pulled a bottle of champagne from the minibar and popped the cork. Happy continued feverishly repairing the laser network, oblivious to the goings-on around her. Dimly, she realized Toby was gathering her loose tools from around her, and pressing a kiss into her hair. “You gotta trust me, OK? We’re gonna be with you the whole time.”

“‘Kay,” Happy said distractedly. 

* * *

“I’m Walter, by the way,” Walter extended his hand when the elevator doors opened.

“Javier,” Santiago gave his alias. “Pleased to meet you.”

Walter held onto his hand. “You, too.”

* * *

“Happy,” Sly called, “Santiago will step out of the elevator and out of range of Walter’s transmitter in four seconds!”

“And…I…am done,” Happy smiled when the lasers re-engaged.

* * *

“OK,” Santiago looked down at their hands. “See you.” He pulled his hand away and stepped off the elevator.

“Signal re-engaged,” Sylvester said. “There was no interruption.”

The elevator doors closed and Walter collapsed against the wall of the elevator, breathing heavily. “What about Happy?”

* * *

“Guys?” Happy climbed out from under the desk. “We gotta haul —” She turned around to see an empty state room, dimly lit, with a tray of strawberries and champagne on the foot of the bed. “What the—”

“Happy?” Toby’s voice came through the coms. “Can you trust me?”

“Seriously?” she screeched, crossing to check the balcony for an alternate way out. “Now?!?”

“Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight,” he said. “Santiago will be through the door in three seconds. Pick up one of those champagne glasses and flirt for all you’re worth. I’ll come get you as soon as there’s an opening, don’t worry. Take your cues from Paige.”

“Take my—” the decision was made for her as she heard the key card in the lock. She grabbed a glass of champagne as the door opened and she found herself face-to-face with Santiago.

“Took you long enough,” Paige prompted.

Santiago flared hot in an instant. “What the _hell—_ ”

“Took you long enough,” Happy said tightly.

“I’m sorry?” Santiago said.

“I’ve been watching you in that ballroom all night,” Paige fed Happy her next line. “Thought we’d never get a moment alone.”

“He’s a classic womanizer, Hap,” Toby sputtered into the coms as Happy repeated Paige’s words. “He’s not going to be able to resist you throwing yourself at him, even in the state room he’s sharing with his wife.”

Santiago looked around the room, over at the apparently untouched desk, then back at Happy. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Key card on the foot of the bed, you stole it from Housekeeping,” Toby said.

Happy looked down, and there it was, big as life. She scooped the card up. “Never underestimate the power of $100 bill discreetly slipped to a housekeeper.” She forced a grin and hoped it didn't look as shaky as she felt. 

Santiago nodded approvingly, shoulders relaxing. “Resourceful. I like that. But it’s a…” he leaned casually against the door. “A little risky, don’t you think? You don’t even know me. And I’m here with my someone. As, I presume, are you.”

“Take him a champagne glass, Happy, keep him in the doorway,” Paige said.

Happy closed the distance between them, offered him the glass, which he took. “I’ll admit,” she smiled, pulse slowing only slightly, “I tend to be a bit of a risk-taker.” She turned back toward the bed, picked up the remaining glass and a strawberry. “F unny thing about risk…if you don’t take one every once in a while, you’ll never get a reward.” She let her eyes travel the length of Santiago’s frame, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculous as she felt. “And I do like my rewards.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Santiago smiled. “Perhaps, though,” he tossed his wife’s bag to the bed, “we should discuss a change in venue. Somewhere a little more pri—”

“Baby?” Happy looked behind Santiago to see a breathless Toby standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide.

“OK, Happy,” Paige said. “You’ve just been caught cheating.”

Happy’s mind was blank. “Um…”

“Are you _kidding me_?” Toby breathed, the very picture of hurt. “We’re here to save our marriage, and I find you in the room of—” he looked Santiago up and down. “Who the hell are _you_?”

“Listen, man,” Santiago set the champagne down and held his hands up, seeking to avoid a scene. “I just walked in on this. This was her idea, I’m not trying to get in the middle of —”

“Oh, it always is,” Toby said. “Stunts like this are how we ended up in separate bedrooms, it’s how we ended up in couple’s therapy, and it’s how we ended up on this cruise.”

“Put up a fight, Happy,” Paige said.

“Maybe if you knew how to keep me satisfied,” Happy blurted, “I wouldn’t need to look anywhere else.”

Toby blinked like he'd been slapped. “So it’s back to this again,” he nodded.

“Apparently,” Happy jutted her chin forward.

“Dammit,” Toby stepped quickly past Santiago and stood toe-to-toe with Happy. “This is _exactly_ what I was saying to Dr. Dodd!”

“Doctor Dodd,” Sly leaned back in his chair. “I like the sound of that!”

“What is it going to take for you to get it through your head that I’m not going anywhere?” Toby put his hands on Happy’s shoulders and shook them. “What is it going to take for you to understand that you’re it for me? What is it going to take for you to get that I’m not going to hurt you like every other person in you life?” He slid his hands to cup her jaw. Happy stared into his eyes, dumbstruck.

“I…” Happy felt a tear roll down her cheek. “I really don’t know.”

“Whatever it’s going to take,” Santiago piped up, “It’s going to be worked out elsewhere. Both of you, clear out. Before _my wife_ decides to join us, huh?”

Toby looked at Santiago, then back at Happy. “Choose me,” he said. “Choose us. Think of the kids. Wally and Cabe and Timmy, you know it would kill them if we split.”

Happy nodded, biting her lip to stifle a grin. “Let’s, um…let’s talk.”

“Elsewhere,” Santiago raised an eyebrow.

Happy looked over at Santiago. “Sorry about…”

“Just—” Santiago extended an arm toward the door. “Just go. Now.”

They stepped onto the elevator and Toby pressed her against the door when it closed, kissed her senseless. “That was amazing. _You_ are _amazing_. You OK?”

“Yeah, I…” Happy breathed, head still spinning. “And _me_? You’re the one who…how the hell did you come up with that?”

Toby shrugged. “Like I said, sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight.” He held his hand up, high-fived her. “I cannot believe we pulled that off.” Happy reached up, pulled him down by his tie. “Thanks for the help,” she said against his lips.

“You bet, Sweetheart,” he said between little kisses. “You will notice, by the way, that I stuck to the list of pre-approved nicknames.”

“I _did_ notice that,” Happy smiled.  “Where are Walter and—”

“Here,” Walter sighed from the opposite side of the elevator, scaring the bejesus out of both Toby and Happy. “And, might I add, we are similarly amazing.”

“It’s true,” Paige sighed, dangling her strappy heels from her fingers. “Walter made small talk with two strangers tonight. If that’s not amazing, I don’t know what is.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Happy, Toby, Walter and Paige hid out at one of the ship’s bars while they waited to see what Santiago did next. Cabe and Tim had advised against cornering themselves in their state rooms. 

“This one,” Toby said to Paige as he pointed at Happy, “even managed to work up a tear in the intensity of the moment.”

Happy shrugged. “You gave a very convincing…performance.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the emotions are relatively close to the surface today,” Toby teased. “Now…if we may turn to the very awkward subject of what we learned tonight about _you two_ ,” he spun on his barstool toward Paige and Walter.

“You may not,” Walter said.

“You absolutely may not,” Paige drilled into Toby with her eyes.

“Look at the two of you, you’re perfectly in sync, how the _hell_ can you not be—”

“Guys,” Sylvester’s voice cut Toby off on the coms. “Santiago just left his room again. Looks like he’s headed back to the ball room. Walter’s bug shows he nosed around his computer for a few minutes and left, dumping Happy’s tray of…seduction paraphernalia at the door of a room down the hall on the way. Looks like we’re in the clear.”

“Outstanding,” Walter said. “We can be off this ship before our double spa date with Adam and Bonnie day after tomorrow.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Spa date? What the hell did the two of you talk about at that banquet?”

“OK, guys, head back to the rooms, but two of you should stay behind a few minutes so you’re not seen leaving together. Sleep with your coms in tonight, we’ll turn them back on remotely if we need to get in touch with you,” Cabe said.

The hour struck 10, and the lights in the bar began to lower as the music rose, and the DJ began playing something with a heavy beat.

“We’ll initiate the extraction protocol we discussed when the ship makes its port of call at Puerto Vallarta at 0800,” Tim said.

“Night guys, great work!” Sly called, and cut the coms.

“You guys go ahead,” Toby said. “You have some things to discuss…or _do_.” He stood, grabbed Happy by the hand. “I want one dance with Secret Agent Woman over here.”

Paige and Walter said their goodnights as Toby led Happy onto the dance floor.

“Toby…I am nowhere near cool enough for this place.”

“Me either,” he pulled her close, gave her a little grin. “But we’ve got a few minutes to kill.”

“Well, you’re smiling, that’s a start,” Happy said. “You haven’t done much of that today.” She looked around at the other dancers. “I’m not good at fast dancing.”

“Post-case high, I guess,” he threaded the fingers of both hands through hers. “Just do what I do.”

She let him move her, let herself melt into him under an ever-changing neon light show that projected onto the dance floor.

“See?” Toby pressed his lips to her ear. “You really can dance your troubles away.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Today was intense, huh?”

She nodded into his shoulder.

“Gratitude Exchange?” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve been out of sorts all day, and you did those stupid exercises with me. You pushed yourself really hard. Thank you for that.”

The lights changed and blue circles spun about the room as Happy pushed herself on the tiptoes of her high heels to reach Toby’s ear. “Honesty Hour: You don’t think it did more harm than good?”

Toby shook his head, leaned closer to her ear again as the light show changed to red pyramids. “That’s not a decision you make when you’re exhausted. This stuff is not gonna be fun. But eventually, we’re gonna be OK, Happy. I believe that now more than ever.” He spun her away from him and pulled her back. “So for now, forget about all that. We’re done working today, on the job, on us. Just dance with me.”

And she did. She slid her hands up his arms and allowed herself to enjoy being swept along with Toby’s goofy dance moves. Toby still seemed tense to her, but she decided he was right. Time to stop thinking for the day. After all, he seemed happy enough as he made a show of dancing backwards away from her, working his way across the dance floor, loving the attention of the other couples on the dance floor. 

Then the light show changed again. It was neon green this time, straight lines that intersected each other as they rained down on the dancers. It had been the furthest thing from her mind in that moment, and all of a sudden, she and Toby were separated by a web of neon green intersecting lines.

_OK, you will not propose to me while you are tied up to a chair and I am up to my elbows in floss!_

_Toby, we’ll be to you in 30 seconds!_

_I don’t have 30 seconds! Happy, I love you!_

“Happy!” she jolted as he shook her by the shoulders. “Happy!” 

Happy blinked at him, looked dazedly at the green lines surrounding them. “We have to…we have to…”

Toby wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s go.”

He hustled her out of the club and onto the deck. She gulped the sea air, unable to get her head to stop spinning. Toby pulled her to the deck railing, and she steadied herself when she felt the cool, polished wood beneath her hands.

“Keep breathing,” he encouraged beside her and she leaned into him, nodded that she was OK.

“What the hell was that?” he said into her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. “You dropped out on me there for several seconds.”

“Nothing,” she mumbled into his tie.

“The hell nothing,” he held her at arm’s length, bent to eye level. “Talk to me. Now.”

She shoved him in the gut, affixed him with a scowl. “That’s a two-way street.”

Toby blanched. “Happy—”

“You don’t talk to me about what’s bugging the hell out of you, even after I ask,” she pointed at him. “And yet you expect…no. After _you_ , Toby. You don’t talk, I don’t talk.”

She left him standing on the deck gaping.

* * *

She stood at the sink in their state room and splashed another handful of cold water on her face. It helped clear her head of the waking nightmare. She rolled her eyes when she heard the door open. Toby appeared in the bathroom door moments later.

She looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Be out in a second.”

“Happy—”

“Toby, this bathroom’s the size of a postage stamp, I’ll be out in a second.”

Toby disappeared from the door, only to reappear a moment later. “I know they didn’t pack you anything you want to sleep in, so here.” He tossed a t-shirt onto the counter. “From Toby Childers’ poolside gear.”

She emerged from the bathroom minutes later, feeling more comfortable than she thought possible in a t-shirt that wasn’t _really_ Toby’s. He was on the room’s balcony, having changed as well, and motioned for her to join him.

The balcony was barely big enough for the two of them, but Toby tried to pace anyway. He eventually settled for leaning on his forearms against the railing. “Alright,” he sighed. “Honesty Hour.” He let his eyes dropped closed. “Collins is due to have his competency hearing in the morning. Before lunch tomorrow, some judge is gonna make a decision about whether he’s regular crazy or extra crazy. If he’s regular crazy, he’ll stand trial. If he’s extra crazy, they’ll send him back to a mental hospital,” Toby shook his head, “and…I guess…we wait until he decides he wants to play another chapter of this sick game, because clearly a mental hospital wasn’t enough to hold him last time. Anyway,” he pulled a hand across his forehead. “This is all happening _in the morning_ …and I’m on a ship in international waters on its way to Mexico. And knowing it’s been coming up has been making _me_ extra crazy, what with the nightmares and the moodiness and the…” he waved his arms around, “…present in the moment…bullpoop.”

Happy sank into one of the balcony’s chairs. “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“Happy, I’m sorry,” he sat in the other chair and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I really am. But I am _sick to death_ of my life being about Mark Collins. When I’m not dealing with what he did to me, I’m dealing with what he did to us, or you, or the team. I go to sleep and I dream about him, I try to work through the issues and I have a damn panic attack. If I told you, told the others, you’d be…and I love you all for this, I do, but it would be a topic of discussion, and I just couldn’t deal with the constant asking how I am, especially when the answer is, not at all well, thank you very much. So I asked Cabe to keep it between us.”

Happy’s brows knit together. “You’re having panic attacks?”

“Not…” he reached forward, wrapped his hands around hers. “It’s to be expected after what happened, OK? It’s limited, and I’m addressing it. I’m getting it under control. I swear.”

“I…” Happy shook her head. “I had a right to know about this. This affects me too.”

Toby nodded. “Probably right. I’m sorry. Happy, I’m making a huge mess of this. But I’m fighting like hell, I swear I am.”

Happy’s hands tightened around his. 

“And yes, I am asking you when I need something from you, and you’re doing it, every time.”

Happy’s face screwed itself into a tight ball, and she slammed her eyes shut, tightening her grip on Toby’s hand even further.

“Uh-oh,” a bit of playfulness crept back into his tone. “That’s not a good face. Should I run for cover?”

She cracked one eye open. “Not you. Him. Collins. If I ever see that son of a bitch again it’s gonna take more than a few prison guards to keep him breathing.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” he ran his thumb along hers. “If you get put away for murdering Collins what the hell will I do with all my time? Well, besides planning our conjugal visits of course.”

“Jerk,” she said on a wet laugh. She looked over the railing at the black sea beyond the ship’s bow.

“You know,” Toby pretended to muse. “If one of us was a shrink, he might say that there’s a very simple reason you’re feeling the way you do right now.”

“Oh, really, Dr. Childers?” Happy rolled her eyes. “And why is that?”

“You, Happy, are a compulsive fixer. It’s hardwired into your DNA. Fixing broken things restores order in your spirit, makes you feel like you have some control, makes you feel powerful. And,” he shrugged his shoulder, “believe it or not, you love me.” He smiled at her. “So you see me hurting, and you want to fix me.” He pulled one hand back, held up a finger in front of her. “But like I said this afternoon, I am not one of your engines. I wish it was that simple, but it’s not. People don’t get fixed. They heal. And that takes time. There’s nothing you can do for me that you’re not already doing.”

Happy shook her head. “Don’t you ever worry that you won’t? Get better?”

“I’ve had some sucky moments, I won’t deny that. But no.”

“Why not?” Happy breathed.

Toby released her hands, reached for his phone, and turned on the flashlight. “Remember what my arm looked like the day after the warehouse? Purple and blue all over?”

Happy closed her eyes, nodded.

He directed the light toward his arm. “Look what happened before your very eyes.”

Happy reached forward, ran her fingers down his clear skin.

“Healing is what we do, Happy. We’re built for it.”

Happy blew a breath out to steady herself. “Okay.”

“As long as I’m playing shrink?”

Happy sighed. “Yeah.”

“Your turn. What the hell happened down there on the dance floor?”

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t even know how to word it. I’m not trying to keep it, I swear.”

Toby nodded. “From the outside, it…kinda looked like you weren’t there with me there for a minute.”

Happy pulled a hand down her face. “Yeah, that’s what it felt like from the inside too.”

Toby’s eyebrows raised. “Meaning you were somewhere else?”

“Seemed like it.”

“Where?”

Happy slouched in the chair, bit furiously at a thumbnail. “The warehouse.”

Toby sat back, drew his palm across his mouth. “Really?” It was barely a whisper.

Happy nodded, refused to meet his eyes.

“Has it happened before?”

“Kinda. That one was…a lot. But a couple times I’ve felt kinda sick to my stomach or whatever.”

“When your thoughts turn to that day at the warehouse?”

Another nod.

“Happy…do you know how it usually starts? Is there a pattern? Does it happen when you’re stressed, or when you’re thinking about that day already—”

“Oh, there’s a pattern all right. A literal pattern. Intersecting lines. Any pattern of intersecting lines, no matter how harmless, and I see—”

“That damn web of floss,” Toby sighed, covering his eyes. “It was, um, the light show, tonight. On the dance floor. That’s what set you off.” He looked up at her. “I’m so sorry, Happy, I didn’t know.”

“S’ok,” she shook her head. “I’m fine now. It goes away after a while.” She pulled herself straight in the chair, rubbed her palms along her thighs. “OK,” she said, forcing a lilt into her voice. “Good trade. Enough shrinkin’ for tonight, though, OK?”

“‘Kay.”

She looked into their state room. “There’s a big bed in there that does not belong to Walter.”

He gave her a polite smile. “On my way.”

She disappeared into the room, and Toby turned his own gaze out to the black ocean. _How the hell did I miss that all this time?_

* * *

The next morning, Walter and Paige waited with a crowd of other passengers near the disembarking point as the ship approached Puerto Vallarta. On the other side of the crowd, Happy and Toby did the same, both of them having tossed and turned most of the night after the revelations of the day. 

Toby laid his hand over Happy’s where it rested on the railing, fiddling with the rings on her finger. “You know…it’s not your style, but…these…they look good on you.”

Happy flipped her hand, and Toby’s with it, to display his wedding band. “You, too.” She met his eyes, gave him a wink. “Maybe that’s something you need to remember. You know, for the future.”

“Oh, I will,” Toby nodded. “Trust me.”

Happy gave him a tight smile. “Good. Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“Is he regular crazy or extra crazy?”

Toby sighed. “I don’t know. Do you have any idea how good a behaviorist I am, and I just don’t know. Sometimes…sometimes I can almost convince myself that he’s _pretending_ to know the difference between right and wrong.” He bit one side of his lower lip, looked over at Happy from behind his sunglasses. “And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s extra crazy. I want him in prison. Where he can’t hurt anybody else.”

Happy folded her lips between her teeth for a moment. “Me too. But, if it…even if it goes the other way, surely Cabe can do something to…”

Toby shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes I’m not sure even a prison could hold him.”

Happy shook her head, watching at the gangway was extended to the dock and excited couples began to disembark. “Toby, I’m just so sorry.”

“Happy, this isn’t your fault.”

Happy nodded. “Except that it is. ”

They moved then, lurched forward with the crowd, and the conversation ended. They were silent as they walked hand-in-hand down the gangway, quiet as they walked two blocks west and one block south, wordless as they got into the car Homeland had waiting for them in the prescribed spot. There was no conversation as they moved to a second location to pick up Paige and Walter, and, as the Homeland agents drove them out of town and to the nearest airstrip where a private flight was waiting on them, Team Scorpion barely exchanged a word.

* * *

Toby tried to read, then get some sleep on the return flight, but he was useless to do much but watch the clock. 

Happy, in turn, was watching him. “Do you know what time?”

Toby shook his head. “They’ll just have to work their way through the caseload in order.”

Eventually, Toby settled on writing his case report, and they were on final approach to L.A. when the co-pilot stepped into the cabin. “Dr. Curtis? Agent Gallo on the line for you, sir.”

Happy watched as Toby took a steadying breath and pushed himself out of the chair.

He returned a just a couple minutes later, took her by the hand and pulled her to the back of the plane away from Walter and Paige. 

Paige looked up as Happy rose from the chair, gave her a little wink.

Toby pulled her into the back compartment of the plane, shut the door behind him. 

“Well?” Happy heard herself ask.

Toby turned around and a smile split his face. “Regular crazy.”

Happy felt her heart skip a beat. “What?”

“Regular crazy,” his smile was so big he could barely get the words out. “He’s gonna stand trial, Hap.”

“I…” Happy’s arms moved awkwardly for a moment before she all-out tackled him. A bear hug became a tight embrace with whispered words of relief, which melted eventually into a passionate kiss. “I can’t believe it,” Happy breathed against his lips, finally. “I just…I can’t believe it.”

“You’re telling me,” Toby swiped at his eyes with both fists. “Dammit, I’m like…Sly at a chick flick over here.”

Happy waved his hands away, brushed the errant tears from his cheeks. “Don’t cry over that bastard, Doc.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, took a steadying breath. “Well…” he exhaled. “Now I’m having a great day.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Happy nodded.

“Happy, come on, you gotta get happy,” he took her by the waist and shook her gently. “Live up to your name, already. He’s gonna stay in prison. He’ll get what he deserves.”

The space between Happy’s eyebrows crinkled tightly. “You’ll have to testify.”

“Today, Sweetheart, I’m gonna let that be Future Toby’s problem,” he pulled her against him. “Hell, I’m almost looking forward to it. Manic episodes, that can’t be good.” He smiled, rested his chin on her shoulder. “God, I love you.”

* * *

Happy leaned against the back of the elevator in the office building on Olympic, staring at her reflection in the mirrored doors. It felt good to be back in her own clothes again, but with why she was here, it was hollow comfort. Her head was so heavy after the last 24 hours — call it Stockholm Syndrome that drove her here if you must, but…she wasn’t willing to mess up anything with Toby again. For what she was about to do, she needed an expert opinion.

She exited the elevator on the third floor, passed a brunette in her late 40s who was talking on the phone, and after a quick check of the building’s directory, headed for the suite at the end of the hall.

“Getting on the elevator,” the woman said. “I was thinking fish tacos. I would not toy with you about leaving the office early. I am a woman with a victory tonight and I want a victory meal with my love.” 

Happy rapped on the door for Suite 301, then tried the handle, only to find it locked. Damn.

“Hang on,” the brunette said, poked her head out of the elevator. “Can I help you?”

Happy spun. “What?”

The woman stepped out of the elevator. “Are you here for Dr. Muriel?”

Happy shook her head. “Dr. Bissell.”

The woman froze. “I’ll call you back,” she said into the phone, and ended the call. She closed the distance between them. “I’m Michelle Bissell.”

Happy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um…hi.”

Bissell tilted her head to the side. “Have we met?”

“Not officially,” Happy shook her head. “Um, we talked on the phone a few weeks ago, you…I work for Homeland, you talked to me because you were conducting an evaluation on my boyfriend, Toby Curtis. Sorry,” she extended her hand, “I’m Happy Quinn.”

Bissell froze. “Is Toby all right?”

Happy shook her head. “Oh, sure. Nothing to worry about.”

Bissell breathed out, shook Happy’s hand.

“Except, you know, he told me he’s having panic attacks. And he has the world’s crappiest girlfriend. I don’t know.”

Bissell nodded. “OK, let’s start over. Can I call you Happy?”

“It is, unfortunately, my name.”

“Happy? How can I help you?”

“Oh,” Happy nodded. “Um, I’m sorry to drop in on you like this.”

“That’s all right. How can I help you?”

“I was, um, I was hoping, I was wondering if maybe you could work me in? For an appointment? But you know…” Happy nodded toward the elevator. “You were going, I didn’t know that. I…I should go.” She started to back down the hall.

Bissell pulled her keys out of her pocket. She knew a person in crisis when she saw one. “Happy, why don’t you come in for a minute?” she called as she put her key in the door.

“No, I can…” Happy turned, continuing to back down the hallway. “I’ll make an appointment. You need to get going. You were on your way out.”

“No you won’t.”

“What?”

“You won’t make an appointment. It took all your courage to come down here, and if you leave, you’ll convince yourself it was a bad idea. Why don’t you come on in?” She opened the door and switched on a lamp in the waiting room. “I don’t bite, at least, not on your first visit.”

* * *

“So,” Bissell watched as Happy settled into Toby’s preferred seat in the middle of the couch. “It’s not every day I get a walk-in.”

“I um…” Happy craned her neck around the office, soaking up the details, “I’m sorry about that, I…needed some professional advice, and you’re the only professional I know besides Toby.”

Bissell nodded, hoping the way her mind was spinning didn’t show to her visitor. “So what’s going on, Happy?”

Happy picked at her fingernails. “I don’t know how many of these you do a day, or how much, how much normal people retain,” she sighed. “I wanted to talk to someone who understood the situation already. Do you remember talking to Toby a few weeks ago? Toby Curtis, it was a fitness-for-duty evaluation ordered by Homeland Agent Cabe Gallo. You spoke to me and the other members of our team as part of your advance research.”

Bissell arched an eyebrow. Toby apparently hadn’t told Happy he was in continuing therapy, at least, not with her. “Happy, I can’t talk about Toby. Patient privacy laws prevent it. If it weren’t for the phone conversation we had that day, I couldn’t even confirm that I’d seen him.”

Happy looked overwhelmed. “Well, I came here because I need some advice. Professional advice. About Toby. I don’t know how to talk about that without talking about him.”

“Try talking about you.”

“How will that help?”

“You’d be surprised,” Bissell said. “Happy, listen, I remember our phone conversation. I remember it well. Talk about you. Why you’re here. Let’s see how far we can get that way.”

“Well, I guess I just…God, what the hell am I even doing here?” she muttered.

“Don’t second guess yourself. What did you hope to leave here with?”

“A plan,” Happy nodded.

“Great,” Bissell said. “A plan for what?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Happy said. “And I just…everything that happened to him that…that weekend. It’s my fault. I…destroyed him. I didn’t realize that until recently. Didn’t, um,” she held her hand up to her head, “didn’t really get it. He is suffering, and struggling, and all he can say when I tell him that I’m sorry is that it’s OK.” She shook her head. “It is the farthest thing from OK. And what I know now is that he’s never going to…he shouldn’t be putting up with this. Putting up with what I did. But he is.”

“OK,” Bissell nodded. “What kind of plan were you hoping we could come up with here?”

“I just…my friend Paige said that maybe it wasn’t best if we…and I got to wondering if maybe the kinder thing wasn’t…” Bissell watched as Happy’s eyes teared up. “I don’t ever want to hurt him again,” she said, pressed her lips together tightly. “And clearly my people skills, are like, zero over here.” She shook her head in disgust, swiped roughly at her cheeks. “I was hoping maybe you could help me come up with a plan to…come up with the best way to…the least painful way…to break up with Toby.”

 


	18. Time Against Us, Miles Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being sought out by Happy in the last chapter, we hear Dr. Bissell’s reaction to Happy’s revelation about the future of Quintis…in the meantime, Toby’s relief over the competency hearing is tempered by his concern for Happy’s lingering effects from their encounter with Collins, and he seeks insight from an unusual source…Happy reveals one of her remaining secrets…Toby loses something very important to him…and the team gets a new member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you when we got here...this chapter contains the one and only change I made to my mapping after we got the initial spoilers for S3...you'll know it when you see it, and you'll see more about why I used it next chapter.

******‘i know i left you speechless. but now the sky has cleared and it’s blue, and i see my future in you. i’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to love me again. i’ll put my hands up. i’ll do everything different. i’ll be better to you.’ - adele, ‘i’ll be waiting’**

_Curtis Method, Rule 1: All in. Both feet. Be willing to do whatever it takes._ _Whatever_ _it takes._

“The least painful way to break up with Toby,” Bissell repeated.

Happy pressed her lips into a thin line, nodded with her gaze on the coffee table.

“There’s no such thing as a pain-free breakup, Happy.”

“I know,” she worked the tendons in her jaw. “I’m looking for the least painful way possible.”

Bissell cocked her head to one side. “Has Toby indicated that he wants to break up with you, Happy?”

“No,” Happy said. “He keeps saying that we’re going to get through this, but it’s going to take time. I think he’s in denial.”

“Denial about what?”

“That us breaking up is the best option for him.”

“Mmm,” Bissell nodded. “Tell you what. Toby's not here. It’s just you and me. So in his absence, I think we should assume that Toby is a grown man who is responsible for and capable of determining the best option for him in a given situation.”

Happy scowled. “That has not been my observation.”

Bissell bit back her grin. _Mine either._ “For the sake of the discussion.”

“I just told you,” Happy sat forward. “He is having panic attacks. He’s having these horrible nightmares. And he’s got this pause button thing with us that’s…it’s like some quasi breakup, and he’s pissed at me, but when I try to apologize, he says it’s ok.” She slammed her eyes shut. “And it’s not ok," she hissed. She opened her eyes. “I’ve got to get him out of this rut. Away from me. Where I can’t destroy him.” She rolled her eyes. “Again.”

“As we discussed over the phone a few weeks ago, Toby experienced some things most people find traumatic,” Bissell toed the line as carefully as she could. “The reactions you are describing are to be expected from someone who recently experienced trauma. As for what happened between the two of you, again, I return to the position that Toby is capable of determining the best option for him in a given situation. If he wants to break up with you, it's his responsibility to vocalize that. Now, let's get back to you. Do you want to break up with Toby?”

Happy pulled her feet onto the couch, crossed her legs at the ankles and swallowed, hard. “I think that’s the best thing for him.” She shrugged. “S’why I’m here.”

“That’s not the same thing as wanting to break up with him.”

“I…think it's more important that I do right by him than to get what I want.”

“Oh, Happy, I don’t blame you,” Bissell shook her head. “Based on the situation as you described it on the phone that day, it’s a pretty big mess. Running is easier than sorting it out.”

“I’m not running,” Happy ground out. “I am trying to do what’s best for him.”

“He gets to decide what’s best for him, Happy,” Bissell said. “You get to decide what’s best for you. Do you want to break—”

“Hell, no,” Happy jutted her chin forward. “Everything I’ve done, every thought I’ve had, every waking moment since I got him back from that monster, all I’ve worked on is trying to fix things between us.”

Bissell made a mental note to circle back to Happy’s choice of words. “And he’s indicated he’s open to this?”

Happy folded her arms across her stomach. “Yeah. I mean he says he’s got to work on some of the trauma stuff first, but he says he wants…yeah. He says he wants us to make it.”

Bissell nodded. “So…he doesn’t want to break up with you, and you don’t want to break up with him. Why, exactly, are you here?”

Happy huffed, cast her eyes on the far wall. “Hell if I know.” She blinked slowly, rose from the couch, paced to the window. “I…love Toby. But I suck at it,” she shrugged, offered a hollow laugh. “I crushed him when I was trying my best _not_ to screw us up. I don’t want to break up with him, but I don’t want to do that to him again either.”

“I think you had the right instinct by dedicating yourself to repairing the rift. When you're trying rebuild trust, there’s no halfway. You’ve got to put all your weight behind this.”

“I’m trying everything I can think of. I’m not the…lovey dovey…Toby talks constantly, and it drives me insane, but it’s also really…sweet. I mean, you may be desperate for him to shut up, but you know where he stands at any given point. With me…”

“It’s not as easy for you to express yourself verbally.”

Happy nodded, tilted her forehead against the glass as she watched the traffic below.

Bissell drew a deep breath. “I had an English professor who used to always say, ‘show me, don’t tell me.’ What he meant was that he wanted us to infuse our writing with action, instead of just third person narrative. If there’s something you want Toby to know, show him, don’t tell him.”

“How do I demonstrate ‘I love you’ when we’re…we’re kind of taking a break right now? How do I express that when I can’t use…you know...”

“The traditional demonstrative behavior?” Bissell winked. “Happy, there are thousands of ways to say ‘I love you.’ Express that through thoughtful actions, noticing his wants and needs and fulfilling them, even though he could do it himself. This could be as simple as a cup of coffee in the morning, or as complex as a special gift or experience planned for him.”

“He does that kind of thing all the time.”

“You might consider giving it a try. Consider creative ways to express love, affection, caring, concern. Even openness, if that's your goal.”

Happy arched an eyebrow. “You really do remember everything about our conversation that day.”

“I do. So much so that I would like to ask you a personal question, if I may.”

Happy shrugged. “I guess.”

Bissell tilted her head. “How’re _you_ doing with the whole thing? Not the relationship stuff, the kidnapping stuff.”

“Me?” Happy spun from the window with her brows raised. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who was kidnapped. Nearly murdered.” She turned back to the window. “Psychologically tortured.”

“You’re right about the first two,” Bissell said. “Don’t be so sure about the third.”

Happy pivoted back toward her. “Come on,” she said on half a laugh. “I never even saw him that day. You’re way off.”

Bissell held her gaze. “See, the problem with that claim is that since the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve been exhibiting significant stress markers—”

“Ooh, you shrinks and your markers. I’m stressed about _Toby_.”

“And you’ve used some language in reference to the kidnapping that—”

“Didn’t we just discuss that I’m not verbal? I go for the word that gets the job done. You shouldn’t read too much into—”

“And it seems to me you’ve been through an awful lot.”

Happy blinked. “What?” A disbelieving smile accompanied a genuinely incredulous tone.

“Putting aside for the moment that the man you love was kidnapped, nearly killed, and is exhibiting behavioral changes that worry you, all this was done by a former colleague who mistreated you as well, forced you to marry him. And you kept that secret for years. You fall in love with Toby, and things are going so well you start looking for a way to undo the marriage, and then Toby goes and proposes, hours after his rescue, the rescue that you and your friends mounted on your own, without the help of law enforcement. He asked you to marry him, and you had to say no. Break his heart. Now, you told me all of that, but here’s the part that you didn’t tell me, and here’s were we come full circle with those pesky psychological markers. You didn’t want to say no. You didn’t just break his heart that night, you broke your own. All because of this one man you very revealing called a monster earlier. So, I’ll ask you again, how are you doing with it?”

Happy sucked in an uneven breath, dropped her eyes to the rug. “Listen, Doc,” she said. “Life is not fair. I ought to know. It hasn’t been fun. But…this one, this one is about Toby. I’m not going to be so…self-indulgent that I allow myself to go down some…emotional rabbit hole when he’s the one who had the thing happen.” She fidgeted when Bissell stared wordlessly. “Besides…whole thing’s my fault anyway. What kind of person causes this disaster and asks for sympathy? I won’t do it.”

“Your fault?”

Happy widened her eyes and shrugged silently. The exasperated _well, yeah, duh_ was implied.

“How do you figure?” Bissell asked.

“What do you mean? I didn’t tell Toby I was married to…” she swallowed, rolled her eyes, “because I didn’t know how to do it without risking what we had. So he went in that hearing room and jumped up and down on Collins. He never would have done that had he known about the history. Collins decides to get revenge, kidnaps Toby, and then sets him up to find out about the…marriage.”

“Did you kidnap Toby, Happy? Plan it? Hire Collins to do it?”

“Let's just say I was an unintentional accessory to the crime.”

“No reasonable person could have foreseen—”

“Maybe not. But I'm supposed to be a genius. For all the good it did me. Did him.”

Bissell squinted. “My understanding is you were the one who saved his life that day.”

“We all contributed. I couldn’t do it on my own.”

“But you were the only one who risked your own life to get him out of harm’s way.”

Happy shook her head. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.” She inhaled sharply, drew herself to her full height, zipped her jacket. “I should go. But thank you…for the…advice. On Toby. It was…I won’t…it was helpful.” She crossed the room quickly. 

“My pleasure,” Bissell said. “Do you feel like you have a plan now?”

“Oh, I don't need — well, I guess I do need a plan, but...not the one I came here for." She nodded to herself. “Show him, don’t tell him.”

“No guarantees, Happy. But give it a try.”

“Oh,” Happy turned in the office door. “What do I owe you?”

“How about we bill Homeland?” Bissell pulled her glasses off. “I’ll consider it part 2 of my evaluation.”

Happy furrowed her brow. “We didn’t even talk about anything with Homeland.”

“Do you like your work with Homeland?”

“Sure…”

“Fair enough,” Bissell stood. “I’ll bill Homeland.”

“Seriously,” Happy came back into the room. “Don’t do me any—”

“Happy,” Bissell said as she rounded the desk, “you were a walk-in until two seconds ago. Now you’re just a barrier between me and fish tacos.”

Happy blinked. “Um…ok.” She stepped backward toward the door. “I’ll be going.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. And thanks. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome, seriously."

Happy nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. Bissell dropped into her chair, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Talk about your tightrope walks.”

* * *

“ _Here I am!!!_ ” Toby screeched with the radio, drumming chaotically on the steering wheel. “ _Rock_ you like a _hurricaaaa-yeeeeen! Are you ready, baby?!?_ ”

His relief at being able to shed Toby Childers had been nothing compared to the relief brought by the decision in Collins’s competency hearing. He’d set off in the Monte Carlo soon after they’d arrived back at the garage. He’d stopped at his apartment, then, absent another case waiting for them this afternoon, had found himself winding along L.A.’s backstreets with the top down, searching for nothing in particular. God, was he on a high, knowing that Collins wasn’t going back to a mental hospital right now. There was still the trial, and testifying, but today…no, today, he just wanted to feel good, for a little while. He’d earned it, dammit. And there might even be an early game in the offing down on Artemis Street that he could—

He screeched to a stop in the middle of Sixth Street, panting heavily. The car behind him honked its horn, and he pulled around the corner with shaking hands, parked under a bridge.

For a moment, the only sound was the echo of the traffic on the bridge above him and his own breath. Then he gulped, scrubbed his face with his hands, and popped the dash hard with his hand. “That’s a _bad car_ , Monte,” his voice trembled on the laugh that followed, and he cracked his knuckles as he looked around the underpass. “You know what kind of trouble that’s gotten us in. Besides which, we gave that up. For good.” He clenched his fists and pressed them into his legs. “Never mind the phenomenally stupid nature of the whole idea anyway; do you know how much that would hurt Happy, if we…” and he rolled his eyes, “and oh, my God, Happy, what are we doing…galavanting around town when Happy is _clearly_ in crisis and we _missed it_ until last night.” He lifted his hat, scratched his scalp. “Well,” he let his eyes dropped closed. “ _I_ missed it. You weren’t on the cruise when she…and I know, I know, we’ll have to let her come to us, but still…we should be focused on that, not on a victory dance because we beat _him_.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Let’s go home, Monte. Where Happy can keep us out of trouble.” He pulled down Anderson Street, intentionally heading away from the seedy back room game in a warehouse on Artemis, despite the fact that he’d have to backtrack to get to the garage. “You pull this crap again, by the way, and I’ll have Happy strip you and sell you for parts.” He rode in silence for half a block, feeling his pulse slow in his veins. “Eh, I’m sorry, pal,” he patted the dash again. “I let my guard down. All this time I’ve been ready for a stress-fueled urge to relapse. I’d forgotten that an emotional high could also push me there.” He shook his head. “Stupid. But don’t worry. I never gambled you, not once, in all these years. I wouldn’t have Happy strip you for parts. But let’s not get stupid like that again, huh?”

* * *

The light was growing golden and the shadows long when Toby burst through the door to the garage, eyes rapidly scanning the space when he didn’t find her at her workbench. “Where the hell is Happy?”

“She went out,” Paige shrugged, then stood. “And hello to you, too, Toby. Fine, thanks, how are you?”

Toby rolled his eyes. “You’re grumpy when you’re not getting any.”

Paige turned bright pink and sunk back into her chair.

Toby puttered at his desk for a little while, gathering his thoughts, but soon he knew the first thing he needed in his quest to help Happy recover from whatever was haunting her about the kidnapping. He needed more information — and thanks to being a world-class behaviorist, he knew exactly where to get it.

“Hey,” Toby said quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the others.

“Hey, Toby,” Tim said. “Good work yesterday, by the way. Your profiling…I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Oh, it’s all in the…all in the brilliance, I guess.” Toby shrugged. “Listen, um…” he dropped his voice further. “Do you maybe wanna walk down to Kovelsky’s and get a cup of coffee?”

Tim turned around, held up his steaming mug.  “Brilliance, huh?” he grinned.

Toby pursed his lips, nodded sheepishly. “How about some dinner? Kovelsky’s makes a great meatloaf.”

“Toby, are you asking me out? Because it’s about that awkward.”

Toby rolled his eyes, cast a quick glance over his shoulder to the others. 

“Tell you what. They got good pie at Kovelsky’s?”

Toby grinned. “Apple pie that will make you think they’ve got an orchard out back.”

“Done.”

* * *

“So…” Tim speared a bite of pie with his fork. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Ahh…” Toby rubbed his hands together, shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I guess you know that since the, um, the kidnapping,” Toby enunciated carefully, “I, um…I’ve kinda been struggling. A little bit. With, um, emotional aftereffects.”

Tim blinked, suddenly uncomfortable. He forced a smile, shook his head. “None of my business, Doc.” He cleared his throat. “That is, unless there’s something you need? Um, anything I can do?”

Toby shook his head. “I know what to do, it’s just going to take a little time. I’m on it. I just, uh, well, I appreciated everything you did that day, by the way, I, um…” he cast he gaze out the window, away from the awkward conversation in their booth. “I know, I…remember what an important role you played in that warehouse—”

“Toby, you’d have done the same for me. Think nothing of it.” 

Toby nodded, eyes on the traffic outside. “Thanks. But, it has come to my attention, finally, that I am not the only one struggling with what happened that day.”

“What are you after, man?”

Toby poked the fingers of both hands against his chest. “I know what that day was like for me.” He rolled his eyes. “All too well. But I don’t know…until last night I hadn’t taken more than a moment here or there to imagine…I’m wondering what that day was  like for you guys. From your end of it.”

“From Happy’s end of it,” Tim said, then cocked his head. “Why are you asking me?”

Toby turned his hands up. “Happy won’t talk, I know that much. Walter would have been too focused on his goals to have been aware of anyone else’s emotional state. Sly’s anxiety was likely through the roof, so it’s unlikely he noticed anything. Cabe might have noticed Happy’s reaction, and Paige did, for sure, but they’ll both hold back. They’ve been…worried about me.”

“Maybe they should be. Maybe I should be, too. This might not be a great idea.”

Toby blinked, tilted his chin up. “I think she’s in trouble, Tim. And I can’t know how to help her if I don’t know what happened to her. To all of you.”

Tim pressed his lips together, nodded slowly. “What is it you want to know?”

Toby shook his head. “Anything you can tell me about Happy’s emotional state throughout the day.”

“Oh, Toby, I…she was concerned, you know? Obviously. We all were. Her emotional state wasn’t exactly my focus, either.”

Toby nodded. “Maybe try walking me through the day chronologically. You probably noticed more than you think you did.”

“Well,” Tim breathed out, tapping his fork against his plate rhythmically. “When the day started, before we knew…when she got to work, she was pretty pissed at you, actually,” Tim smiled.

“Why?”

“Because you stood her up.”

Toby’s eyes dropped closed, and he tilted his face down. “We were gonna meet for breakfast.”

“And she’d been texting you the night before. I got the impression maybe she wanted you to come over.” Tim shook his head, one corner of his mouth turning up. “She was all wound up, imagining the worst.” The smile faded. “But I don’t think she imagined _that_. We’d just started putting together the pieces when we got the first call from Collins.”

“Happy’s reaction?”

“She got intense. I mean, she’s intense all the time, I know, but…the only thing she cared about was getting you back. She wanted Walter to hand over that research Collins said he wanted, no questions asked.”

“Ack, Happy,” Toby breathed.

“Face it, Doc, that woman would burn the world down for you. And she damn near did. She was either intense like I’ve never seen her or…or completely silent. The phone calls bugged her a lot, I think. When we thought he was torturing you…”

Toby had never thought of that moment from anyone’s perspective but his own, even when Cabe had discussed it briefly with him in the days after the kidnapping. But Tim’s mention allowed him the opportunity to put himself in the shoes of the others, in Happy’s shoes, hearing his screams and not knowing as soon as he did that it was a con. He imagined himself in Happy’s position, and his stomach dropped. “Holy hell.”

“I’m a ex-SEAL, man. That…was heavy.”

“Did she—”

“She didn’t say much. She never said much. She just did everything she could to move heaven and Earth to get you back. By the time Collins spilled the beans about the proposal, she had pretty much rounded the bend into panic. You remember how she was when we were trying to get through that web.”

Toby slumped in the booth. All this time he’d been fixated on his experience when Happy…he felt like such a selfish jerk.

“Toby,” Tim’s voice pulled him back from his reverie. “It’s none of my business what’s going on between you. But for what it’s worth…she felt terrible about…I mean you could tell she just felt horrible about how things happened. And if I noticed anything about her emotions that day, anything at all, it’s that that woman is head over heels in love with you, man. She’s absolutely out of her mind for you. I’m not making excuses for her or…but just…you should know that.”

“I do,” Toby nodded his head. “I do. I just…” he took a deep breath, “this thing really knocked me for a loop. And in the meantime, Happy has been suffering.” He exhaled, popped his palms against the table. “Time to get up off the dirt.”

Tim nodded. “Damn right. Sounds like a plan to me.”

Toby met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“If you tell her I told you this, you’re dead to me. I may be an ex-SEAL, but I don’t want to be on her bad side.”

Toby couldn’t help but grin. “Welcome to my world. It’s a done deal. Wanna head back?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Happy backed through the door to the garage weighed down by a few different bundles. She heaved them onto her workbench, taking in the quiet, darkened garage. “Geez, guess I was gone for a while.”

“That you were,” Toby’s voice floated out of the kitchen. She turned to see him closing the distance between them.

“I had some things to do.” She grabbed one of the packages. “I picked up some burger—”

She was cut off when Toby walked straight into her and tilted her chin up, silencing her with his lips. She was confused at first, but eventually dropped the bag and went with it, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“What was that for?” she asked when he pulled back half an inch.

“Nothin’,” Toby grinned with eyes gone soft and warm, and if she didn’t know better she’d swear he knew what she’d been thinking about. What she’d almost done, if not for a shrink she’d never really met until tonight.

“You’re just happy that jerk got his ass handed to him in the competency hearing today,” Happy teased.

“I’m just crazy-go-nuts in love with you,” Toby winked.

“Then maybe you need to be reminded of the pause button that you insisted on,” Happy arched an eyebrow.

“Maybe you need to be reminded,” he cupped her jaw in both hands, grinning widely, “what a good kisser I am, pause button or no.” Happy couldn’t help but reflect his grin, and pulled him closer.

“Aw, geez, guys, cut it out, with the personal contact?” Walter whined as he descended the stairs.

Toby pulled back only slightly, smirking at Happy. “Relax, it’s not like we were engaging in _the physical intimacy_.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Burger, Walt?” Happy asked, blindly reaching for the bag.

“Oh!” Walter’s face lit up. “Yes, please.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “So, that moment’s over, then.”

Happy patted his cheek patronizingly. “You’ll be OK.”

“OK,” Walter said, gathering his food awkwardly in his arms. “The centrifuge is running upstairs, so I’ll eat up there.”

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Toby called after him. “Get the hell over to Paige’s.”

“No,” Walter called over his shoulder as he climbed the steps. “We learned a lot on that cruise. Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re taking tonight to reflect and then we’ll discuss that together in a day or two. So in the meantime,” he nodded up the stairs. “Experiment. Good night. And no,” he gestured down the stairs with the soda in his hand. “No…physical intimacy. If you’re both going to move in here, and based on the fact that you both came back with additional luggage, it looks like that’s the case, then I deserve a certain minimum standard of consideration.”

Toby smoothed his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. “Needs to be a little longer, alright, Walt?”

“That’s fine. I’m just saying…”

“No hanky panky, as Happy calls it,” Toby smiled. “Fine. Hey, we appreciate…your hospitality, you know?”

Walter turned, descended a few steps. “I’m not being hospitable. I am not a hospitable person in the least. You both just…refuse to leave. I’m basically the victim of an ongoing home invasion!”

“Then just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt!” Happy called. Toby snickered and stuffed a French fry in his mouth.

“I’m going upstairs,” Walter groaned.

“So I guess we’re both putting down roots here, huh?” Toby turned back to her. 

Happy shrugged, sorting through the items on her tool bench. “You’re putting down roots. I’m here because you’re here.”

Toby felt a pang of guilt. “I told you why I need to be here, remember.”

“You want to avoid gambling triggers and being here with Walter provides extra accountability so you’re note tempted to sneak off in the middle of the night,” Happy said. “I’m good with that. I get it.”

“I still need it for a while, Hap.”

Happy looked up. “Is something wrong?”

Toby shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. But addiction works this way, Happy, something could be wrong, without warning, any minute and I just…that’s why I started doing this,” he nodded around he room. “Couldn’t hurt to stay a while longer.”

Happy watched him closely, then nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.” His smile reappeared. “So where’d you disappear to this evening, besides Chucky Burger?”

“Nowhere, I just…I needed to talk to somebody,” she turned back toward her workbench as he busied himself with his burger. “And I picked up some things from my apartment. Including,” she approached again with a box in her hands, “a present for you.”

Toby’s brow furrowed. “My birthday isn’t for another few days.”

“Not for your birthday,” she set the box on the table, craned her neck to see if Walter was emerging from the loft. She took the stool opposite Toby, slid the box toward him. “This,” she took a steadying breath, “is my second biggest secret.”

Toby looked like he was about to choke on his last bite of burger. “What?” he said around the food.

“You said on the cruise that you wonder if there’s anything else you need to know. I got to thinking maybe this could help you see that there isn’t. My biggest secret is that I’m married to that…”

Toby swallowed his last bite. “Jackass.”

Happy nodded at the box. “This is my second biggest.”

Toby squinted at her, hard, then lifted the lid off the box. “Women’s shoes,” he peered inside. “Scandalous.”

“Look closer.”

“Well, they’re miniature, so they’re definitely yours,” he teased, and she kicked his shin under the table, but her heart wasn’t in it. “But black patent, pointy toe, heels, that’s unusual for you.” He pulled the shoes out of the box, flipped them over, then dropped them as if he’d been burned. “Oh, God.”

“Yes.”

He stood up, backing away from the box. “Those are… _tap shoes_!”

“Keep it down,” Happy ground out.

“Oh, my _GOD_!” Toby shrieked.  “You…you…” he dropped his voice to a frantic whisper. “Happy, you _tap dance_?!?”

“By all means,” Happy crossed her arms across her chest. “Enjoy yourself.”

“I…” Toby shook his hands like he was trying to shake water from them. “Multiple…so many levels of…”

“I told you I was almost adopted twice?”

“Yeah?”

“The first family insisted that I be involved in at least two kinds of lessons. I could choose which ones. I tried this on a whim, and I liked it.”

“This was the family when you were 8?”

“Yes.”

“The…the woman got cancer. Terminal.”

“They had to send me back.”

Toby sank onto the stool, staring at the shoes. “And you…still?”

“Occasionally, through the years, when I had a little cash or found some cheap lessons. Since Homeland came along, I go more often. It’s hard to make a regular class with the schedules we keep, but…it’s something I enjoy. And that only you are ever, ever, _ever_ going to know about. Are we clear?”

“This is the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me,” Toby breathed, then pushed the shoes toward her. “Well, let’s see it.”

“What? No!”

“How am I supposed to believe this story without some kind of proof? A demonstration?”

“Take a leap of faith, I guess.” Happy packed the shoes away.

Toby cackled with delight. “That was a hell of a thing to share. And I get why you did it, Happy, thank you.”

“Good,” Happy gave him a toothless smile, pleased with herself. “You’re welcome.”

“You need to get back on your wood planer project,” Toby pointed to the beam she’d mounted on the wall behind her workbench, with the intent of tracking her progress in repairing things with Toby. “You’ve been earning points left and right the past couple of days,” he gave her a little push toward the wall. “And you want to make sure you keep accurate records of those results.”

Happy moved the wood planer along the two-by-four a few times. “For the record, Toby? I really am sorry.”

“I know,” Toby said, handing her the shoebox. “Man, I’m beat. You wanna turn in early?”

Happy blinked. “Yeah, sure. I’m a little surprised you want to, though.”

“Why?”

“The last few nights you’ve had nightmares to bring the house down, Toby.”

“Nightmares?” he scoffed. “I’m not afraid of no stinkin’ nightmares. Sleep is vital for our brain function and overall health. So those nightmares will just have to get the hell over themselves.”

“I’m not sure it works like that,” Happy said.

“Not completely,” Toby said. “But I’m a man with a plan. The best way to ensure pleasant dreams is to end your evening on a pleasant note.” He pulled his phone out, queued his song of choice. “And that’s where you come in. Dance with me? Did you notice how I asked you for something I needed?”

“Yes,” Happy drawled sarcastically, made a little face at him before letting him pull her to him. “What the hell is this music?”

“Bing Crosby,” Toby smiled. “A little ditty from 1935.”

“They had music back then?”

“Well, this was a very special song, featuring a Happy Quinn-approved nickname. ‘Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you, let me hear you whisper that you love me too.’ Bing is my man now.”

“This sounds like those wonky phonograph recordings,” Happy sighed. 

“OK, it's not _that_ old,” Toby pressed a kiss to her scalp. “You don't like it, pick another nickname…sweetheart.”

“No,” she breathed, sinking into his chest. “Not picking again.”

“Guess you gotta live with it, then.” Happy hummed an affirmative. “You're all talked out, huh?”

Happy nodded silently against his chest. 

“Anything I can do for you?” he ventured, knowing he wasn’t like to get anything out of her.

He felt Happy shake her head against his chest. 

“‘Kay,” he whispered into her hair. “I'll ask again.”

“Enough already with the music and the seduction techniques!” Walter called from the loft. 

Happy lifted her head from Toby's chest, brow already furrowed. “Seduction techniques?”

“There are people up here attempting to pursue science!”

“And, I guess _that_ moment’s over now,” Toby sighed, stepping away from her. “All in the name of science.”

“Speaking of science,” Happy said. “Is that actually gonna help? On the sleep front.”

Toby shrugged. “We'll see. Hey, Hap?”

“Yeah?” she called from the kitchen. 

“Don't apologize anymore, OK?”

Happy emerged from the kitchen, face slack. “What?”

“Every day you apologize at least once...I...don't want you to do that anymore. I know that you’re sorry. I know that you didn't want this to happen this way. We still have some things to work through, but…" he scrubbed his hands through his hair. "At some point in time, no matter how bad a moment was, you've got to walk ahead. We’ll never get rid of the pause button unless I make an effort to cross some of these things off my list. So...your apology is accepted. I don’t need you to apologize again, ok? Let’s just move forward.”

Happy’s brows knit together.

“Geez, I can hear the gears grinding in your head. It’s a good thing, lunatic woman. I mean…isn’t it?”

“I…yeah, I guess. I mean, no, of course it is,” she trailed off. “Just…just like that?”

“Just like that?” Toby hated to laugh at her, but he couldn’t help it. “You call everything we’ve put each other through in the last few weeks ‘just like that’? If by ‘just like that’ you mean blood sweat and tears, and progress inch by agonizing inch, then yes. Just like that.”

“So what does this mean?”

“It means, let’s not worry about what happened. Let’s focus on how we both get comfortable moving forward.”

“Well,” Happy drew herself to her full height again, looked around the garage as if it were new to her. “OK, then.”

Toby smiled. “OK, then. Let’s go to sleep.”

Happy nodded and checked the lock on the garage’s main entry. “Doc?”

“Hmm?” Toby called, tossing a couple pillows to the couch.

Happy turned off the overhead lights. “Thanks. For accepting my apology.”

He gave her a toothless smile. “You’re welcome. Let’s get some shut-eye.”

Happy stepped away from the door, but paused by the two-by-four mounted to the wall. On impulse, she moved the wood planer along the beam a few more times for good measure, unable to keep the grin off her face. 

It _was_ a good thing. Finally. Just like that.

* * *

Toby bent double with a cough when he caught a lungful of arid smoke. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

“What do you mean?” Walter waved the smoke away from his face as a crowed began to gather in the parking lot, though they kept their distance. “I couldn’t disarm the bomb. The area was heavily populated, the most efficient option was to contain the blast.”

“ _Beneath the hood of my car!”_ Toby shrieked.

“It was the closest object that could withstand the blast,” Walter shrugged, then furrowed his brow. “I just explained this to you. Did you hit your head, or do you have some residual tinnitus from the explosion?”

Toby’s arms went limp by his sides. “See now you’re scaring me, because you’re not apologizing, and instead looking at me like you expect to be congratulated.”

“Well, it worked!” Walter spread his arms. “Look at all these people who are safe thanks to me!”

“Look at all these…look at _my car_ , Walter!”

“Whoa!” Happy’s shout cut off any reply Walter had. Happy came toward them at a dead run, Cabe, Tim, Paige and Sly hot on her heels. “You guys OK?”

“We’re fine,” Walter shrugged. “And so is everyone else, by the way.”

“Everyone but Monte,” Toby ground out.

“It is just a car, Toby,” Walter sighed.

“It was _the other half of my soul_ , Walter.”

Happy pivoted to meet his eyes.

“What?” Toby spread his arms. “The _other_ other half of my soul.”

Happy turned back toward the wreckage. “The _other_ other half of your soul is that stupid hat.”

“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure Walter will find a way to incinerate that momentarily.” He winced as his eyes traveled the length of his smoldering car. “Can you…fix it?”

Happy looked at him with wide eyes. “Sure!” she drawled. “We’ll just bang the dents out, a new paint job and she’ll be as good as—are you _insane_? Toby, this isn’t a car, it’s a two-ton hunk of carbon!”

“Well, I guess you’d better put that genius brain to work getting a new classic ’79 Monte Carlo, 197.”

Walter squinted. “Can’t I just give you the 80 bucks?”

Cabe caught Toby around the ribs before the rest of the group even realized he’d lunged for Walter. “Alright that’s enough,” he growled. “Take a walk, Doc.”

“I’m sick of his —”

“Doc. Walk. It. Off. I’ll deal with the fire department and law enforcement.”

Toby stood upright, straightened his jacket before turning and skulking across the street. Happy watched him go.

“He could probably use a friendly face, Happy,” Paige suggested.

“He needs a minute,” Happy replied. She recovered her fire extinguisher from the truck and doused the smoldering interior. She took her jacket off and used it to protect her hand as she unscrewed the knob on the gear shift, then handed the extinguisher off to Tim. “Keep Walter away.”

“Copy that,” Tim said. “Just because nobody died yet doesn’t mean nobody _will_.”

Across the street, Toby plopped down on the curb after buying a hot dog from the sidewalk vendor a few feet away. Happy couldn’t help but cock her head. She’d never seen anyone eat _furiously_ before, but this was definitely it. 

She sunk onto the curb next to him silently, wrapped her arms around her knees. 

“I’m so sick of his megalomania, I swear to God,” Toby griped, then sighed. “I loved that car.”

Happy nodded. “Listen, I could rebuild it. Take it down to the chassis, new engine, new wiring, new seats, new console. I could make it look the same, but deep down, you know it wouldn’t actually—”

“Be Monte,” Toby sighed, watching as the fire department surrounded his ride across the street. “You’re right. His time has come, Happy. Let him go.” He gave Happy a sideways glance. “But thank you. For offering.”

Happy shrugged. “Sure.” She shook her head. “Ugh, I am the world’s worst girlfriend.”

“Because you don’t know what to say when Walter blew my car up? Don’t worry. That’s not in the handbook.”

“No, because you’re upset and all I can think about it how good that hot dog smells.”

Toby held the remaining half out to her with a ghost of a grin. “All yours. I was just eating my feelings anyway.”

Happy fished the gear shift knob out of her pocket, held her palm out to him. He exchanged the hot dog for it, ran his thumb over its polished surface. “Held up pretty well,” he said. “More than I can say for the rest of him.”

Happy hummed her approval after taking her first bite of the hot dog. “You know, it doesn’t have to be all bad. It’s always exciting when you get a new ride.”

“Eh, I’m not ready to go there yet,” Toby groused, spinning the knob in his fingertips. “Right now I want to sit in the gutter and split a hot dog with you, because that’s what happens when Walter murders something you love.”

“You’re gonna give him hell, aren’t you?”

“Ohhhh,” Toby drawled. “Like it’s my job.”

“Better be careful. If things get too hot between you, Sly will complete—”

“I know,” Toby said. “But he’ll have to deal with it for a little—well,” he leaned forward to look around Happy. “Looks like we’ve attracted an audience. Hey, pooch.”

A knee-high dog with a sandy coat danced in place a few feet away, tail wagging his entire back half and shaking his folded ears along with it.

Toby reached over Happy, snapped his fingers. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he asked in a higher pitch.

The pup danced over playfully.

“Stop it,” Happy hissed. “Do you want to get bitten?”

“He’s not gonna bite,” Toby chided as the dog ran around Happy to hippity-hop beside Toby’s knees. “And anyway, he’s just a puppy.” Toby poked the dog playfully all over, and the puppy swatted at his hands with its front paws. “See?” Toby grabbed him playfully by the snout and pulled his mouth open. “You can tell, he’s got those little needle-teeth.”

The dog snapped his mouth closed, then his gaze fell on Happy again, and he sat, staring intently. Happy, for her part, regarded him warily. “What is his deal? It’s like he’s obsessed with me. It’s creepy.”

Toby snickered. “He’s obsessed with your hot dog, Hap.”

Happy looked down. “Oh.”

“Poor little guy probably doesn’t get much to eat.”

Happy’s brows knit together in displeasure. “Well, he might belong to somebody.”

Toby shook his head. “No collar, plus he’s filthy and a little underweight. Little guy’s a street rat. Aren’t you?” he asked playfully and the dog wagged his tail again before focusing again on Happy. “Give it to him, Happy.”

Happy moved to set the hot dog on the curb and the puppy climbed over Toby with all the gusto his tiny body could contain. Happy withdrew her hand with lighting speed.

“Okay, okay, man, learn to play it cool sometimes,” Toby laughed, scooting the dog off his lap. Across the street, Cabe waved them over. “That’s our cue,” Toby sighed, standing. “OK. See ya pooch.”

He and Happy started across the street, only to hear an excited yipping behind them. “No,” Toby said, all business. “This is a busy street. You can’t play here.” He shooed the dog away. “Go on.”

Ten minutes later, as he stood next to Cabe talking to the fire department and a member of the LAPD, he heard Happy gasp. He looked over, and she gave him a wide-eyed look, then nodded down. Between them, the dog sat, staring up, tail waving a mile a minute.

“Hey, what did I tell you?” Toby bent over to pet the dog when he finished with the authorities. “This is no place for you. You’ll get into trouble here, pal.”

“Come on,” Cabe sighed. “I’ll take you two back to the garage in my SUV, so Walter doesn’t die young.”

“Great idea,” Toby said, then tapped the dog gently with his foot. “Go on, pal. Find someplace else to turn those puppy dog eyes on.”

* * *

“Paige and Sylvester are trying to talk some sense into Walter,” Cabe said as they piled out of the SUV in the alley, “And she won’t bring him back here until she does. When he comes back here and makes a fair offer, I want you to—”

The three of them turned at the sound of a high-pitched yelp. 

“Are you kidding me?” Happy breathed.

“Hey!” Toby shouted like he was seeing an old friend of the first time. “Hey, look at you, pal! Look what a good tracker you are! That must have been a mile and a half!”

The dog screeched to a stop in front of him in the alley, and it was tough to say who was doing a more ridiculous dance, him or Toby.

“You wanna hang out for while?” Toby asked, shaking the dog’s ears.

“Doc,” Cabe said. “I’m not sure that’s the best…”

“He chased us all the way here, Cabe, he needs something to eat,” Toby said. “Come on, pal. Hey, Happy, can you believe this?”

Happy pivoted toward Cabe as Toby and the dog entered the garage. “This is gonna be an unmitigated nightmare.”

* * *

“Out,” Walter said.

“No,” Toby jutted his chin out.

“It cannot stay here.”

“Sure he can,” Toby crossed his arms. “He’s my guest.”

“You can’t have guests in a place where you don’t live!” Walter bounced on his heels. “You’re just doing this because you’re made about that junk heap—”

“Walter!” Sylvester’s voice pierced the air. “You promised to show some restraint.”

Toby quirked an eyebrow, silently daring Walter to push further.

Happy looked down at the tugging at her ankle and shook the dog off her shoelaces for the third time in less than a minute. “Just until we can find a home for it, Walt. Toby said he was homeless.”

“Hey,” Toby said sharply, and the dog turned to face him. “No. No chewing. Bad boy. Tell him no, Happy, or he’ll destroy everything you own. Haven’t you ever been around a dog before?” Happy shrugged. 

“Walter, he is a sweet little guy,” Paige cooed to the puppy. “And if he has no place else to go…isn’t that the mission of Scorpion?”

“It’s kind of sad, Walter,” Sly said. “Not as sad as how filthy he is…but sad.”

Walter folded his lips around his teeth, closed the distance between him and Toby. “Just until you find some place to take it. And you’d better keep it out from underfoot.”

Toby shook his head. “You won’t even know he’s here.” He clapped his hands. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you some dinner.” The room was filled with the clicking of the dog’s toenails against the garage’s cement floor as he scurried along behind Toby toward the kitchen.

Walter scowled at the rest of the group.

“Might not be so bad, Walter,” Tim said. “I had a dog growing up, it was great. He wasn’t any trouble, and he was always—”

An aggressive growl on the other side of the room was followed by a rodent’s ear-piercing screech and the distinctive rattling of a cage. “Bueller, no!” Toby shrieked.

“Don’t say no to him!” Walter charged across the room. “Bueller, nothing. Bueller lives here!”

Happy dropped into her chair, examined the frayed laces of her boots. “This is gonna be unbearable.”


	19. I Only Know That I Am Better Where You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some goodbyes, some new beginnings, and some false starts as a member of the team marks a personal milestone. 

Previously, on _The Curtis Method_ …

_“The therapist tonight, she…emphasized the importance of focusing on my recovery from the thing,” Toby shook his head, “from the kidnapping, dammit, and…and hostage situation. And until I get my head around that…I need to press pause on the…romantic…aspect of us.”_

.....

_“Why wouldn’t you want Toby and me to make it through this, for his sake if not for mine?”_

_“Because, Happy,” Paige said, “I am not sure that you and Toby making it through this_ is _what’s best for him.”_

.....

_“This is Bob Linden, detective with the LAPD,” Tim said._

_Toby extended his hand. “Dr. Tobias M. Curtis.”_

_“Pleased to meet you,” Linden said. “I’m sorry about the circumstances.”_

_Toby’s eyes jumped to Cabe, then back to Linden. “What circumstances are those?”_

_“Toby, the LAPD is taking the lead on the investigation into the Collins case,” Cabe said._

.....

_“I’ll go hours, the better part of a day, and I’ll be fine,” Toby told Bissell. “Absolutely fine. This morning, I was standing at my bathroom sink and I pulled the floss out of my medicine cabinet…the next thing I knew, I was puking my guts out.”_

.....

_“Do you think I could get a look at the statement Toby gave the LAPD?” Happy asked._

_“It’s evidence,” Cabe said. “It’s restricted to—”_

_“Look, I am never going to be the kind of person who can imagine what another person is feeling. I need more data to understand what’s happening to him and I’m afraid—sometimes it’s like he’s not even Toby anymore, Cabe. Somebody’s gotta do something, and, yeah, maybe this isn’t it, but it’s the only idea I’ve got, so…”_

_On a crate behind the garage, Happy flipped Toby’s LAPD statement closed and propped it on her drawn-up knees. She shook her head at the empty alley. She thought she knew Mark’s mind games, but the way he’d dangled the marriage in front of Toby’s face, made him worry, then made him think it was nothing, knowing all the while that if Toby survived he’d eventually find out, the way he’d talked non-stop about how he was going to kill Toby, the way he’d formulated that acid and strung that godawful web while Toby watched. Combined with what wasn’t in the statement, what he’d told her after the nightmare last night about begging for his life…and then a couple hours later, she’d taken the hell he’d been through and raised it to a whole new level. How the hell was he dealing with any of this?_

.....

_“Walter and Paige,” Toby whisper-screamed, “they’re not doing it.”_

_“That’s ridiculous,” Paige cackled on the edge of desperation. “Toby, you are way, way off base, OK?”_

_“Oh, my GOD,” Happy whispered to Toby, eyes wide as saucers. “They’re not doing it.”_

_“This conversation is over,” Paige said, sounding closer to tears than anger._

_“What are the three of you even talking about?” Walter said into the comms after bending to tie his shoe. “Wait. Are you talking about…Paige, are they talking about_ **_the physical intimacy_ ** _?”_

_....._

_“Your turn,” Toby said. “What the hell happened down there on the dance floor?”_

_Happy shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t even know how to word it.”_

_Toby nodded. “From the outside, it…kinda looked like you weren’t there with me there for a minute.”_

_Happy pulled a hand down her face. “Yeah, that’s what it felt like from the inside too.”_

_Toby’s eyebrows raised. “Meaning you were somewhere else?”_

_“Seemed like it.”_

_“Where?”_

_Happy slouched in the chair, bit furiously at a thumbnail. “The warehouse.”_

_Toby sat back, drew his palm across his mouth. “Really?” It was barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Happy, I didn’t know.”_

.....

_Toby shrugged. “Hey, Hap?”_

_“Yeah?” she called from the kitchen._

_“Every day you apologize at least once...I...don't want you to do that anymore. I know that you’re sorry. I know that you didn't want this to happen this way. We still have some things to work through, but…" he scrubbed his hands through his hair. "At some point in time, no matter how bad a moment was, you've got to walk ahead. We’ll never get rid of the pause button unless I make an effort to cross some of these things off my list. So...your apology is accepted. I don’t need you to apologize again, ok? Let’s just move forward.”_

.....

_“I couldn’t disarm the bomb,” Walter said. “The area was heavily populated, the most efficient option was to contain the blast.”_

_“Beneath the hood of my car!”  Toby shrieked._

_“Listen, I could rebuild it,” Happy said. “Take it down to the chassis, new engine, new wiring, new seats, new console. I could make it look the same, but deep down, you know it wouldn’t actually—”_

_“Be Monte,” Toby sighed, watching as the fire department surrounded his ride across the street. “You’re right. His time has come, Happy. Let him go.” He gave Happy a sideways glance. “But thank you. For offering.”_

.....

_“It cannot stay here,” Walter ground out._

_“Sure he can,” Toby crossed his arms. “He’s my guest.”_

_“You can’t have guests in a place where you don’t live!” Walter bounced on his heels. “You’re just doing this because you’re mad about that junk heap—”_

_Toby quirked an eyebrow, silently daring Walter to push further._

_Happy looked down at the tugging at her ankle and shook the dog off her shoelaces for the third time in less than a minute. “Just until we can find a home for it, Walt. Toby said he was homeless.”_

* * *

  **“with you and i, it's something different; i’m enjoying it cautiously. i’m battle scarred; i am workin' oh-so hard to get back to who I used to be…near to you, i am healing but it’s taking so long. though he's gone and you are wonderful, it's hard to move on. yet, I'm better near to you.” — a fine frenzy, ‘near to you’**

_The Curtis Method, Rule 6: Sometimes a grand gesture is the only thing that will do._

* * *

 “Occasions when friends gather are supposed to be inherently joyful, but it is grief, not joy, that brings us together here today,” Toby clasped his hands in front of him theatrically.

“Unbelievable,” Walter sighed, flinching when Paige’s elbow made contact with his ribs.

“In a way, today’s beautiful weather, California sun and ocean breeze serve as an affirmation of life,” Toby turned his palms to the sky. 

“We’re in a junkyard,” Walter ground out.

Toby fixed Walter with a glare. “While I know a heartless person might find this to be a waste, any mental health professional worth his salt can tell you that it is important to acknowledge a major loss, honor the pain it leaves in its wake. I have appreciated the outpouring of support I have received from the less _jaded_ among you,” he studiously looked away from Walter’s rolling eyes. “And to that end, young Ralph Dineen has a musical selection he’d like to share.”

Ralph pulled his iPod from his pocket, and the solemn strains of “Taps” began to play through the bluetooth speaker on the ground next to his feet. This attracted the attention of the sandy colored puppy who’d followed them back to the garage a few days earlier, and he left Toby’s side to stare at the speaker, head twisting from side to side with each new note.

Paige leaned her shoulders toward Walter and spoke in a soft whisper. “You could be a little more generous about this.”

“It’s a car funeral. Paige, we’re spending actual time right now at a funeral for a car.”

“It’s a loss.”

“For the gasoline industry.”

“Toby loved that car. It was one of the ways he expressed himself. It’s easy to find another car, but not one that allows that self-expression, and he needs to…mourn that, a little,” Paige explained.

Walter pivoted toward her. “Tell me you don’t find this frivolous.”

“I can’t,” Paige smiled apologetically. “But I find it tolerable. We’re asking Happy and Toby to look after Ralph tomorrow night, so, um…” she dropped her eyes, raised them to his again after shifting her weight, “we can have a little frivolity of our own.”

“Oh,” he smiled uncomfortably. “Right.”

“So, if we’re going to ask for that very important favor, then it’s important that we demonstrate some advanced…goodwill.”

“Paige, I have a finite amount of goodwill and he’s—”

“Just…try. Please? For me?” She winked at him. “Us? I’m really looking forward to this, Walter.”

The corners of Walter’s mouth turned up. “OK.”

“Doc?” Happy nudged him with her shoulder. “I don’t want to rush your process or anything, but Earl needs to open up soon.” She cast an apologetic look over to the junkyard’s owner, who stared at the events in front of him like he smelled something foul. “How soon do you think we can get out of his way?”

Toby snapped his fingers when the dog picked up on a scent and began to wander away from the group. “Hey,” he pointed to the ground next to his feet. “Right here.” The puppy returned with a wistful glance into the junkyard and sat between Happy and Toby’s feet. “Good boy.”

Happy furrowed her brow at how easily the dog obeyed. She had been much less successful. “So, like I said, I’ve known Earl a while, but he’s not really big on—”

“Answer this for me, how does Walter look right now?” Toby kept his eyes straight ahead, expression somber.

Happy turned. “Like he’s in actual pain.”

The corners of Toby’s mouth turned up. “Then we’ll be done here soon.”

Happy signaled Earl by holding a finger up. 

“Hey,” Toby said, and Happy looked up to find him grinning. “Thanks for doing this.”

Happy gave him a toothless smile. “Isn’t the tradition that the birthday boy gets to choose what he wants to do on his birthday? It’s a weird choice, but,” she glanced back at Walter’s discomfort, “I gotta admit, I see the appeal.”

Toby’s grin widened, but dropped off his face as the final strains of “Taps” faded out. “Thank you for that moving selection, Ralphie-Boy.”

“Sorry about the recording,” Ralph said. “I could’ve taught myself to play it on trumpet in an hour, but Mom said we weren’t spending any more time on this nonsensical—”

Paige coughed loudly to cut Ralph off, smiled apologetically at Toby.

Toby arched an eyebrow at her. “Be that as it may, it’s the thought that counts, kiddo.” He patted Ralph on the shoulder. “Now, if you will keep on eye on my little pal, here,” he nudged the dog toward Ralph, and stepped away, turning his attention toward the forklift in from of him, and nodding at Happy. “We’ll say our final goodbyes.”

Happy climbed into the forklift and set Monte’s burned-out frame in the car compactor gingerly. She climbed down and walked with Toby behind the controls of the car crusher. She flipped some switches and the motor in the machine roared to life. 

Sylvester and Walter crouched by Ralph with excitement. “Remember,” Sly said, “we stick to our original theories. With the Monte Carlo’s high engine profile, I’m betting the hood buckles first. And 16.4 seconds to maximum compaction.”

“It’s a foolhardy guess,” Walter shook his head. “The area around the engine block is reinforced.”

“Which was weakened by your throwing the bomb in it,” Sylvester argues.

“The door supports buckle first,” Walter said. “And it will take nearly a full 18 seconds for maximum compaction.”

“Hey,” Toby snapped from beside the compactor. “A little respect, please.”

“The door supports,” Ralph whispered, petting the dog on the head. “But Sylvester’s spot-on about the time, Walter.”

“Alright,” Walter smiled, nodded. “May the best genius win.”

“OK,” Happy stepped away from the controls. “The big lever. Go for it.”

Toby clapped his hands together, suddenly devolving into the same excited mindset as the rest of them. “OK!” He stepped toward the panel, then stopped, mid-stride, turned to Happy. “Seriously, this is the coolest birthday—”

“Thanks, Doc, but I’ve got an anxious junkyard owner on my hands,” she nodded toward Earl. “Get the goodbye on the road, already.”

Toby grinned, spun toward the lever. He reached for it, hand suddenly going still an inch above the knob. 

“Toby.”

“Oh, my God,” he muttered, dropping his hand. “I can’t.”

Happy threw her hands up in exasperation. “You said you wanted to!”

“I did! But now I…he looked at the blackened mass in the compactor. It’s _Monte_ , you know?”

“OK, Doc, you know somebody has to do it, right?”

“I know.”

“And you said you wanted it to be you.”

“I did!”

“Instead of a stranger.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I can’t.”

Happy shrugged. “Well, do you want me to?”

Toby drew his face up. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Doc!”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“And it’s not going to be like…I’m killing Monte…dancing on his grave, that type of thing?”

“No, Walter did that.”

“OK,” Happy shook her head. “Here we go.”

“Wait,” Toby stilled her hand before she could reach the knob.

“Doc,” Happy growled. “Either you do it, I do it, or we walk away and Earl does it.”

“That’s so cold, though.”

“I’ll do it!” Ralph said.

“Pipe down, boy genius, you’ve had your speaking part in this funeral,” Toby said. 

“Doc?”

“OK,” Toby said, shifted his weight a little. “So long, Monte.” He pulled the lever toward him with a little wince. 

The assembled group watched with delight as the machine flattened the car, in Ralph and Sylvester’s predicted 16.4 seconds.

“OK, that was more awesome than I thought,” Toby smiled. “And the only thing that made it better was Walter being wrong!” He high-fived Ralph as they turned to leave. “Come on, pooch.” The dog scampered after the guys as they led the way back to the cars. 

“Toby,” Paige said as they turned to leave. “Call the dog something already.”

“No,” Toby shook his head as he chased after Ralph and the dog. “I don’t want to get too attached.”

Paige slowed her pace, allowed Happy to catch up with her. “I think he’s already attached.”

“Yeah,” Happy said. “He’ll like what I’m about to do, right?”

“Oh,” Paige fished Happy’s notebook out of her bag and handed it back to her. “You’re gonna make his life.” She waggled the notebook Happy stole out of her desk the night she’d formulated the Curtis Method. “This looks familiar, by the way.”

“I needed something to take notes on,” Happy said, took the book back in her hands. “What did you think of my birthday project?”

“I think it’s good. Really good. You know what’s missing?”

“Time to get it all done,” Happy moaned.

* * *

“So when’s Timbo back from San Diego?” Toby asked as he pulled the milk from the garage’s fridge.

“Late tomorrow,” Walter snarled. “Unless the outlook for his back is not good and they want to keep him for further tests.”

“The well wishes are just radiating off of you.”

Walter glared at him. “It’s like you don’t even want me to replace that junk heap of yours.”

Toby’s reply was cut off by Paige’s return from dropping Ralph off at school. She looked around the garage. “Where’s Sylvester?”

Happy smeared cream cheese on her bagel and turned to join Walter and Toby at the table, nearly tripping over the dog in the process. “Cabe took him to a meeting at Homeland. They’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Paige’s eyes went wide and she nodded slowly. “Ah. So it’s just the four of us then.” She let her eyes meet Walter’s, then crossed the kitchen and began to fumble with the coffee maker.

“Hey,” Toby snapped his fingers at the dog. “Stay out from underfoot, before you make somebody eat pavement. Out of the way,” he said, and gently pushed the dog to the side. He looked up at Happy. “That’s the command. You need to practice that with him.”

“Or not, because the dog’s stay here will be _temporary_ ,” Walter said. 

“The more trained he is,” Toby pointed his spoon at Walter before digging into his bowl of cereal, “the more likely he is to be adopted by a great home. Doesn’t hurt to teach him a few basic commands.”

“Toby, we understand it will take time for you to find a home for the dog, and in the meantime, he is welcome here,” Paige arched an eyebrow at Walter, then turned back to the coffee machine. 

“Looks like the missus told you, Walt,” Toby winked.

“Speaking of that,” Walter stood, clasped his hands together. “While it’s just the four of us, there’s something I’d like to share with you, Toby, Happy.”

Happy and Toby looked at each other, then Walter.

“Paige and I have elected to explore a sexual dynamic to our relationship.”

A coffee mug shattered in the sink.

Toby looked back at Paige’s ramrod straight form, then at Walter again. “Could we finish eating first?” he said around a bite of cereal.

“Oh, absolutely,” Walter said, sitting back down. “We won’t be beginning this facet of the relationship until tomorrow night, and we’d actually like to ask a favor.”

“I’m not helping you with anything involving the exploration of a sexual dynamic for you and _anybody_.”

“Ditto,” Happy said.

“You wanna chime in, Paige-half of ‘Paige and I’?” Toby called over his shoulder.

“I…” Paige turned around, face beet red. She cleared her throat. “We had hoped you wouldn’t mind watching after Ralph here at the garage tomorrow night so Walter and I can have a little privacy.”

“Naked privacy,” Toby said. Happy snickered.

“I am not…” Paige trailed off, flustered. “We are consenting adults, we are not…just shut up, will up do it or not?”

“Sure we will,” Happy stood from the table as she finished her bagel. “We like Ralph better than we like either of you.”

Toby threw a grin at her over his shoulder. “What the lady said.”

“Good,” Paige nodded. “Thank you. Happy, you said you’d help me with the air conditioning in my car since we had a slow day today?”

“Yeah,” Happy downed the last of her coffee. “I took a look yesterday. The fix won’t be too bad, but we’ll need to go pick up a few parts first.”

“Walter?” Paige said.

“Sure,” Walter shrugged. “Go.”

Paige’s reply was shut off by her ringing phone. “One sec. Paige Dineen. Yes, I called about that…size 6. You have one? Can you hold it? I’ll pick it up today. Thanks.” She ended the call. “OK, Happy, you ready?”

“Let’s go.”

“Hey, you guys gonna be back in time for birthday lunch at Kovelsky’s?” Toby called.

Happy turned and backed out the door. “Uh…if we can, but this place is all the way out in Venice Beach. We’re having dinner tonight, anyway. Whoa!” She caught herself in the doorway as she tripped over the dog. “Um, bad dog.”

“Out of the way,” Toby reminded.

“Out of the way,” Happy said, then gently pushed the dog to the side. “Now, stay.”

“Happy part hunting, you two,” Toby grinned as she turned to leave.

She found herself smiling back, wondering if he sensed her minor deception. “Happy birthday.”

* * *

“OK, so that’s plates, cups, and napkins,” Paige piled the items in their cart at the party store. “Man, shopping for air conditioning replacement parts in exhausting,” she winked.

“He probably knows,” Happy said as she pulled a ‘happy birthday’ banner off a peg. “But he told me once he’d never had a surprise party, and I kinda got the impression he wanted one.”

“How do you surprise a world-class behaviorist?” Paige mused as she browsed the party hats.

“Well,” Happy sighed. “In my experience, marrying his mortal enemy generally does the trick.”

Paige let a few beats of silence pass between them. “You’re working really hard to make up for that,” she said as she grabbed a few rolls of streamers and tossed them in the cart. “Maybe you should start cutting yourself a little bit of slack.”

Happy pivoted on her heel. “Am I hallucinating, or aren’t you the woman who told me you weren’t sure Toby and I staying together was good for him?”

“That was a lot of weeks and a lot of really hard work ago,” Paige gave her a sympathetic smile. “And I’m sorry if I was hard on you. But I see how hard you’re trying. How hard you’re both trying. I want you to know…I’m rooting for you guys. I am. If I was a little…protective of Toby when it first happened…it just, it took a second to get my head around it, is all. I hope this works out for you, and I’m in your cheering section, honestly.”

Happy felt a whoosh of air through her lungs as a bit of the ever-present tension in her body left. She looked down into the cart, obnoxiously cheerful with its brightly colored decorations. “Thanks,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Should we braid each other’s hair now, or…”

Paige smacked her with a pack of party hats. “You never let well enough alone.” She took Happy’s notebook from her. “Looks like that’s about it. Oh, what about a bow, for, you know, your present?”

“That isn’t impractical?”

“What are you gonna do, wrap it? Come on,” she pulled the cart behind her as she crossed the store. “They make them here.”

* * *

“See?” she hopped in place as the party store clerk passed the bow across the counter. “How perfect will this be?”

The corners of Happy’s mouth turned up. “That’s nice.”

“Ralph is really excited to help you with the present part of Operation Toby’s Birthday,” Paige said as they checked out. 

“Well, he’s been a big help, and I could _use_ the help, obviously,” Happy gathered up half of their bags. 

“You’ll learn,” Paige said. “It takes time. You’ve got an appointment at 3:30, and then I suggest a trip to the store for supplies and cleaning up…it will help make things go smoother with Walter. Ralph has assembled a list of things he thinks you’ll need.”

Happy nodded as they loaded the supplies into the trunk. “I’ll just pick him up from school, if that’s OK.”

“Sure,” Paige said. “What about the cake?”

“Bakery said it won’t be ready before 4, so I guess I’ll just get it while we’re out.”

“Borrow my car, then, it’ll work better,” Paige said as they got in. “And on the off-chance he doesn’t see this coming, it will look like you’re still working on my broken a/c. OK,” she closed the door, turned toward Happy with her hands in her lap. “Can we make a quick pit stop? A store a few miles away is holding something for me for the day.”

Happy shrugged as her pulled her seatbelt across her. “No problem.”

* * *

“OK…” Happy’s eyes darted around the lingerie store as her face heated up. “When you said the store was holding something for you…”

“Something for tomorrow night,” Paige scrolled through her e-mails on her phone. 

“Something naughty and twisted for Walter,” Happy winced.

“What am I, a dominatrix? It’s just something pretty. I saw it online last night, but it wouldn’t have gotten here in time.”

Happy pivoted toward Paige. “I’ll. Be. In. The. Car.”

“Oh, relax already, it’s not like I’m telling you my favorite position. It’s our first night together. I want it to be special, you know?”

“Ms. Dineen?” the clerk held out a lavender lace number on a padded hanger. “Would you like to try this on?”

 Paige nodded excitedly. “Come with me.”

“Geez, Paige, when I said we should braid each other’s hair, I was _kidding_.”

“It’s just a slip, for Pete’s sake, Happy! Come on.” She tugged happy by the wrist toward the fitting rooms.  

* * *

“You know, this really isn’t necessary,” Happy called over the door as Paige changed, idly flipping through the lingerie on the sales rack outside the fitting rooms. “Walter doesn’t need…” she waved her hands at the clothes in front of her, “…romance and intrigue. He likes you. He trusts you.” She pulled a hanger off the rack absently, running the material through her fingers. “I don’t know about normals, but that’s really all _we_ need. Not this stuff.”

Paige opened the door. “It never hurts to show you think the other person is worthy of the extra effort.” She put her hands on either side of the fitting room doorway. “What do you think?”

Happy turned around and her eyes went wide. “Yeah. He’s gonna have a heart attack, fall down, and die. If that’s your goal, go for it.”

“Well, it is, metaphorically speaking,” she disappeared back into the fitting room and changed quickly.  When she emerged, she took the hanger out of Happy’s hands. “This is nice,” she turned the simple dark gray silk slip around on the hanger. “It would be pretty on you. Do they have a small?” She began flipping through the sales rack.

“Oh, no,” Happy smiled, flushing pink. “This is your kinky errand run, not mine.”

“But it could be,” Paige said. “Yes!” She pulled a size small from the rack and held it up against Happy, who flinched and took a step back. “Whoa. This is going to be great on you. Try it! Try it!”

“It’s…not really my style.”

“It’s got to be at least a little bit your style, or you wouldn’t have been looking at it.”

“I was just looking!”

“Because it appealed to you. For God’s sake, there’s not a scrap of lace on it, and it’s the color of metal. On sale? Today, of all days? It’s meant to be. I mean, Happy birthday, Toby, am I right?”

Happy snorted. “Wrong.”

Paige’s face fell. “Aren’t you guys doing OK? I mean, considering?”

“Fine,” Happy spread her arms. “Better. But this…” She nodded to the hanger in Paige’s hand. “Was never our style.”

Paige pushed her into the empty fitting room and tossed the hanger at her. “If it doesn’t fit I won’t say another word.”

* * *

“How’s it coming?” Paige called over the door of the fitting room.

“Fine.”

“Does it fit?”

“I think so.”

Paige reached for the handle. “Can I—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Alright,” Happy cracked the door and stuck her head alone into the hallway. “Let’s say for just a second I do think it looks good—”

Paige bounced excitedly on her heels. 

“What exactly do you propose?” She flinched. “Suggest. Walter goes up to bed and I just…”

“Don’t worry about Walter. I can make him scarce for the evening. OK, can I tell you something that might tick you off?”

“Now is probably the safest time to do that, since there’s no chance of me coming out there to hurt you in this getup.”

Paige took a step back, out of Happy’s reach. “When you gave me your notebook this morning to look through—”

“My notes for Operation Birthday.”

“I sorta leafed through the rest of it. My point is…I saw all your notes about the Curtis Method, or whatever you call it.”

Happy shook her head. “It’s not exactly a secret. And I’m gonna smack you in the back of the head when I get near you again.”

“For what?”

“Invasion of privacy.”

“I shouldn’t have, I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You’re scribbling in that notebook or on Sly’s board every chance you get, and…well, like I said, I’m rooting for you. Both.”

Happy face flushed even redder. “Your point, Dineen.”

“You’re putting a lot of emphasis on recapturing the things that brought you together in the first place. So maybe…I mean if it was me, I’d probably try to recreate a special time. I mean have you guys ever…had a…rendezvous…at the garage?”

“Oh!” Happy’s face contorted. She pulled her head back into the dressing room and slammed the door. “Next question!”

“What I’m saying is recreate a romantic moment,” Paige said to the dressing room door. “Something that was special to the two of you. After the party.”

Happy opened the door as she shrugged back into her jacket. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, Happy, I think this could be a real shot in the arm for you two!”

Happy sighed as she held up the hanger again. “We are doing a lot better, actually.”

Paige smiled ear-to-ear. “Do it,” she whispered.

“You’re what Toby calls an enabler,” she scowled and all but stomped toward the register. 

Paige smiled to herself, endlessly pleased. “Actually, in this case, I think I’m what Toby would call a wingman.”

* * *

Toby sat at the bar at Kovelsky’s winding a piece of floss around his index fingers. He chewed on his bottom lip as he twisted the length of floss, uncoiled it, then coiled it again. He split the length evenly between his two hands, then wound the entirety of of the piece around one finger, then the other. 

“There he is!” Cabe brought a hand down on Toby’s shoulder, jarring him out of his intense concentration. “How was car shopping?”

“I’m sitting here and Walter’s in our booth, how do you think?”

“Oh, man.”

“‘A Malibu’s the most efficient option, Toby. I’ve done all the research already, Toby. Stop being ridiculous, Toby,’” Toby mocked. 

“I thought you loved Walter’s new car,” Sylvester said.

“That’s the problem,” Toby wagged his finger. “I had a wandering eye. I philandered with the company car, and look what happened. Monte died. I can’t cheat on him with a fancy new Malibu when his poor…chassis is barely…”

“Crushed?” Cabe said.

Toby began winding the floss again. “Not cool.”

“Oh, man,” Sly smoothed his sweaty hands down the front of his sweater vest. “I’m gonna go see if I can talk Walter down. I mean, we went over all this yesterday.”

“Doc, I get it,” Cabe leaned against the lunch counter. “But you’re gonna have to make peace with Walter eventually. For the good of the team, and both of you, for that matter. You’re no good to each other when you go round-and-round like this.”

“Then he should be less of a pip.”

“I hear you. I think the dog is wearing on him, to be honest.”

Toby raised his eyes to Cabe’s. “Then Walter needs to adapt. I’m not putting him out on the street, Cabe.”

“Nobody’s suggesting that, I’m just saying, you can let Walter’s attitude slide every now and again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toby mumbled.

“What’s with the string?”

“Floss,” Toby waggled his finger at Cabe. “A little exposure therapy.”

“Yeah?” Cabe didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise. “How…” he lowered himself onto the barstool next to Toby. “How ya doin’ with that, Doc?”

“I’m coming for that bastard, Cabe,” Toby flicked the floss onto the abandoned plate at the place beside him. “Happy…Happy has been struggling with this too, and I missed it. And we’re working really hard to make our way back to each other and we can’t do that until we both find some peace. So I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask that asshat for my brain space back.”

Cabe nodded. “She’s been worried about you. I mean, worried sick.”

“I know,” Toby propped his chin in his hand. “And now I’m worried sick about her. So, I’m pushing myself hard to make it past this, so I can help her…and then we can work on us together.”

Cabe clapped him on the bicep. “Proud of you, kid.”

Toby rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Thanks, Dad.” He looked over his shoulder toward the booth where Sylvester pleaded with Walter. “And that’s not our only problem.”

“Oh?”

“Wally Boy’s gonna be gettin’ lucky tomorrow night.”

“Well, it’s about time those two got it together, but why is that our problem?”

Toby pushed his hat back. “This is not us at speed dating, just trying to get Walter to interact with nameless-faceless woman. This is _Paige_ , you know?”

“Doc,” Cabe shook his head. “I appreciate you wanting to look out for her, but she’s a grown woman, and Walter—”

“Is a one-man freak show with a brain that can’t compute how to deal with a woman like that. I mean, do you really think…do you get the idea that Walter is…”

Cabe knit his brows together. “What?”

Toby let his eyes drop closed in disgust. “Experienced?”

Cabe laid his face in his hand. “Oh, God.”

“This is what I’m saying.” He leaned toward Cabe conspiratorially. “If he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and I think we both know that’s the case, this thing could die fast and quiet, and after everything they’ve been through…I mean, the jerk blew up my car, but I want better for him. And I certainly want better for Paige.”

Cabe stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “What do you suggest, exactly?”

Toby leaned closer. “I think Walter might need a little…coaching.”

“ _That_ is all you, Doc.”

“No!” Toby swatted him on the shoulder. “Like a pep talk. Pointers on how to start strong with Paige. Help him avoid some of the rookie mistakes.”

Cabe rolled his eyes skyward. “Can’t I just swing by the dentist and have a couple root canals instead?”

“You’ll be great,” Toby stood and hauled him off the barstool. “And look at it this way, Sylvester might learn a little something in the process.”

* * *

“We’re all really happy for you and Paige, son, you know that,” Cabe said.

“Yes,” Walter nodded. “Thank you.”

“And,” Toby leaned over the table in the booth and turned his palms toward Walter. “We don’t mean to pry…”

“But you’re going to,” Walter said.

Toby nodded. “All…beef between us aside, Walter, I want the best for both of you. We thought maybe you’d be interested in a few…um…” Toby tilted his head from side to side, “…relationship pro tips.”

Walter blinked. “Well…”

“Son…” Cabe grunted at the tabletop, his mortification never allowing him to lift his head out of his hands. “Paige is a…very special woman.”

“Obviously, Cabe,” Walter said. “I mean why else would I feel this way about her?”

Cabe opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked over at Toby, rubbed his palms together nervously.

Toby nodded, tried to pick up the ball. “And she’s been on her own a long time, raising Ralph since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. I don’t know that there's been anybody serious since Drew, and clearly that was no picnic.”

“She deserves to be treated well, Walter,” Cabe said. “You need to make sure you’re…um…looking out for her…in the relationship.”

Walter’s brow furrowed. “I know I don’t have the highest EQ in the world but I would never mistreat her, Cabe.”

“Of course not,” Cabe shook his head. “But communication is very important.”

“Absolutely,” Toby clapped Cabe on the forearm and shook his finger at Walter. “Communication is key. Keep those lines open. What works for her is important, not just what works for you. What she likes, what she wants to…explore.”

“Oh, God,” Cabe dropped his head back into his hands.

“Well, sure,” Walter nodded. “Shared hobbies in an important part of maintaining—“

“Walter, Cabe and Toby are doing a horrendous job of explaining to you that you need to make sure to consider Paige’s needs and pleasure in the sexual part of the relationship,” Sly said, never looking up from the menu. “I’m having trouble deciding between the ham salad and the club sandwich.”

Walter’s brow dropped over his eyes. “That’s what you meant?”

Toby turned his palms out, unable to meet Walter’s eyes. “To put it bluntly, _thanks, Sly_.”

“Oh,” Sly pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Thank _you_ , Harvard-trained psychiatrist.”

“Seriously,” Cabe said. “After what I just saw, I don’t ever wanna hear you brag about Harvard ever again.”

“Not my specialty!” Toby defended.

“OK, well, I appreciate all the _pro_ tips, gentlemen, but I’ve been researching, and I believe I have the situation well in hand.”

“Researching?” Toby knit his brows together. “Walter, was this video research, because let me _assure_ you, that’s _not_ the way it happens in real—”

“OK, let’s briefly review your love lives, relationship _pros,_ ” he swung a finger on each of them in turn. “Married my sister behind my back, divorced a woman you were still in love with, and tried to marry a woman who isn’t divorced!”

Toby rolled his head toward Cabe. “And you were worried about his EQ.”

* * *

“Hi,” Happy said to the expressionless woman behind the counter. “We’d like to adopt a dog.” She turned to point at Ralph as the puppy struggled in his arms. “That one, there.”

The woman blinked in slow motion. “The law requires that you make a reasonable effort to determine whether there was an owner.”

“There was no collar, no chip, and we posted flyers around the neighborhood, circulated his picture on social media, and we even ran a classified ad for a week,” Ralph recited dutifully. 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You know what classified ads are?”

Ralph shrugged. “I didn’t before my mom told me we had to run one. He doesn’t belong to anybody. We made sure.”

Another slo-mo blink. “Fill this out,” she pushed a clipboard across the counter. “The fee is $75.”

“We ran a classified ad?” Happy whispered when she sat down next to Ralph to complete the form. 

“I read up on the requirements for adopting a dog on their website,” Ralph whispered back. “Toby is convinced he didn’t belong to anybody. This is just more efficient.”

“And a teensy bit amoral,” Happy said as she quickly filled out the form. “You’re spending too much time with Walter, kid.”

* * *

“Ma’am?” the worker approached the counter with the adoption forms. “I’m afraid the kid can’t adopt the dog in his name, since he’s a minor. You’ll have to put the animal’s license in your name.”

Happy looked between Ralph and the woman. “Oh, no, he isn’t…Tobias Curtis is my boyfriend.”

“You must be present to adopt the dog, ma’am…we require a signature.” You can bring the form back when he can come along if you don’t want—”

Ralph cleared his throat loudly. “Um…Aunt Happy? Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Happy took the clipboard and returned to Ralph’s bench. The dog swatted at the zipper on her jacket. 

“It’s not much of a surprise if Toby has to come down here and do it himself,” Ralph said.

“Well, what am I going to do, adopt it myself?”

Ralph nodded. “It’s just paperwork, right?”

 _Like I haven’t told myself that before._ “I guess you’re right.” She gave the dog a wary look, then scribbled out Toby’s information and replaced it with her own. She handed the clipboard back to the clerk. “We’ll do it in my name.”

“OK. And you still need to fill out the animal’s name.”

“I have no clue what—”

“Aunt Happy!” Ralph called, sounding far too much like Paige trying to settle one of the team in a volatile moment.

“One second,” Happy sighed.

“Toby can change it if he wants,” Ralph said. “Again, this is just for paperwork.”

“What are we going to do, name him Spot?”

Ralph scrunched his face up. “That doesn’t make sense. He has no spots.” He scratched the dog under his chin. “Toby calls him ‘pal’ a lot.”

“He calls everybody pal, though, I think that might get confusing,” Happy bit her thumbnail. “He calls him pooch.”

“Isn’t that kinda like naming him ‘Dog’?” Ralph countered. “Traditionally, people often name pets and children after other people who’ve meant a lot to them. Just like I’m named after my grandpa,” Ralph said. 

“I don’t know if he’d want us to name him after any family members, buddy,” Happy said, leaning away as the dog nipped at her.

Ralph’s look of deep concentration melted into an expression of pure glee. “I’ve got it. And it’s perfect.”

* * *

“And, this is food gets high reviews from the online veterinary community,” Ralph hauled a bag off the shelf and Happy took it from him and set it in the cart. “Now we need chew toys.”

“It doesn’t need toys,” Happy said. “It’s a dog, not a child.”

Ralph pinned her with what was becoming his trademark glare in the aisle. “He can chew his own toys, or he can chew your shoes and tools. Your choice.”

Happy pulled several toys off the pegs and tossed them into the cart. “Next.”

“Just a collar and leash,” Ralph said.

“OK,” Happy craned her neck toward the grooming section at the front of the store.

“Happy, he’s fine,” Ralph said.

“I just don’t want it to think we’re leaving it,” Happy said. “Like we’re giving it away. It’s been with us for a few days now, and I think it’s getting attached.”

“Not _it_ , Happy, _he_ ,” Ralph teased as they got in line. “And he’s fine.”

“Him,” Happy nodded unsteadily. “Man, I hope Toby likes this, because if he doesn’t, I now own a dog.”

“He’ll love it,” Ralph said, then stopped in his tracks on the way to the grooming section. “Hey,” he approached the glass-encased machine by the door. “We should probably get him a name tag.”

“Well, what if Toby doesn’t like the name we picked?”

“He’ll think it’s perfect,” Ralph smiled, then stood on his tiptoes to view the selection. “Besides, any gift needs a name tag. That’s just practical. Which one do you think?”

“ _Not_ the heart,” Happy said.

“The paw print?”

“Maybe…” Hapy said. “No. The little bone. Toby would pick the little bone. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

Ralph nodded. “I think you’re right.”

* * *

“Mom?” Ralph poked his head in the garage door.

“Coast is clear!” Paige waved him in. “Cabe and Toby stopped by the LAPD. Wow!” she said as Ralph walked the puppy in on his leash. “He looks amazing!”

“Did you talk to Walter?” Ralph asked.

“He knows,” Paige nodded. “I’m not going to say he’s happy about it, but we’ll take him to the observatory after the party, and you can keep working on him.”

“What errand did Cabe cook up for him at the LAPD?” Happy asked, carefully balancing the cake box. 

“Actually, I think it was real. Some kind of consultation,” Paige said. “OK, we’re decorating on the roof.”

Happy nodded. “Can you get the doors for me, I think I’m gonna walk this thing up the—”

Next thing Happy new, she was airborne, ankles tangled in the dog’s leash, cake floating away from her despite her best attempts to stop it.

“Dammit!” she shouted as she hit the concrete on her elbows, the cake box sliding across the garage floor with a sickening _splat_. “Don’t trip me!!!”

“Out of the way,” Paige reminded.

“ _Out of the way!_ ” Happy shouted as the dog ran to her, taking advantage of her position to lick her face frantically. “Ugh, and no licking!” she swatted him away. “What, do you think that fixes something???”

“It was an accident,” Paige said, gingerly lifting the lid on the cake box. “OK, let’s talk for a second about the cake.”

“That’s not cake anymore!” Happy hauled herself off the floor, shoved her hair out of her eyes. “That’s triple chocolate…bread pudding!”

“Still tastes good!” Ralph said, as Paige swatted his fingers away from the box.

“We’ll get it upstairs,” Paige said. “See if we can doctor it up.”

* * *

“I appreciate you coming back in,” LAPD Detective Linden said as Toby and Cabe seated themselves at a conference table. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m curious,” Toby said, then nodded toward Cabe. “Agent Gallo told me you said it had nothing to do with my case, and that it was urgent.”

“Totally unrelated, and quite urgent,” Linden said. “We need your expertise. We have a particularly ugly case on our hands.” His hand stilled over a folder. “Strictly confidential, understood?”

Toby and Cabe nodded, and Linden pushed the folder toward them. Cabe tipped it open with his index finger.

Toby let out a low whistle. “Ugly is an understatement.”

Cabe flipped the photo, and Toby winced. Cabe flipped the second photo, then a third, then a fourth, stopping finally on the fifth. “Why haven’t I heard a word about this on the news?” he asked.

“We’re doing what we can to keep it quiet, preserve the integrity of our investigation. They were spread out, the first murder was nearly a year ago, but the last three were in the last couple of months. They’re spread out geographically, all over the Los Angeles area, and the technique was not particularly unique, so it took us a while, but we’re now all but convinced we’re looking at—”

“A serial killer,” Toby said. “All women?”

“Young single women, all last seen at high-end clubs,” Linden said.

“You need to call the FBI,” Cabe said.

“We did,” Linden said. “Their profile of the perpetrator,” he reached across the table and flipped a few more pages, “was vague. Admittedly, we didn’t have much to give them.” He spread his hands. “I was wracking my brain and I thought about you, that photographic memory of yours, and I thought, even though it was a long shot…”

“Photographic memory is a misnomer,” Toby said, flipping back through the crime scene photos. “I’m very high on the eidetic spectrum. Wow,” he shook his head. “This is one sick puppy.”

“No kidding,” Linden said. “Can you help us out?”

_You really think you can analyze me, Toby? Do you have any idea how easy it is to do what you do?_

Toby shook his head to clear it. “Um...it’s a little far from my specialty. I’m a behaviorist. My focus is on academic research and therapy.”

“Doc,” Cabe said. “I know we were teasing you earlier. You’re constantly profiling for us.”

“When I have a subject in front of me to profile, Cabe,” Toby gestured down to the photos. “This requires a forensic specialist. A skilled one.”

He looked between two expectant faces and nearly relented, then — 

_See how easily I just got in your head?_

“Look,” Toby pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can get you a couple of names, people who who focus on—”

“Sure thing,” Linden nodded. “I appreciate it.”

* * *

Sylvester teetered precariously on the chair as he wrapped the streamers and tossed the roll across the roof to Ralph.

“Guys, I think we’re at maximum streamer coverage,” Paige said as Happy approached the table and dropped the object in her arms with thinly veiled disgust.

“Cake in a bowl is ready. Happy freakin’ birthday.”

“He. Won’t. Care.” Paige patted her shoulder as she passed. “And take a look at this guy.” She held the puppy up, complete with new collar, name tag and huge bow around his neck.

Happy smiled in spite of herself. “He’d better like his present, because his present is the reason he has no cake.”

“He’s gonna love it,” Paige assured.

“OK,” Walter burst through the door, smiling a little in spite of himself. “Cabe just texted, they’re pulling up now.”

* * *

“What the hell, doesn’t anybody work here anymore?” Toby asked as they stepped into a silent garage.

“Listen, Doc,” Cabe said. “I know you probably already know all of it, so I’m not gonna give you the cockamamie excuse Sylvester cooked up to get you upstairs.”

Toby furrowed his brow. “What?”

Cabe cocked his head to the side. “Roof. She worked really hard on this. Act surprised…I think it’ll give her a little thrill.”

Toby’s face melted into a mix of delight and shock. “Are you kidding me?” He took the steps to the roof three at a time.

“SURPRISE!!!” 

Toby gaped at the decorations. “I don’t believe it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Happy said as Paige popped a party hat on his head. “Happy birthday. _Big_ surprise, huh?”

“You did all this?” he breathed.

“She had her little helpers,” Paige said, “But it was her brainchild.” 

Toby looked around. “My favorite pizza,” he said. “More balloons and streamers than should be legal, and…” he stared into the large bowl on the table. 

“What used to be triple chocolate tower cake from that place you like.”

“You schlepped all the way out to east L.A. for me?”

“Toby, we fly to Ukraine and back in a day, east L.A. isn't much of a schlep.”

“And what the hell happened to it?” He looked up in the next second, already wincing. “The dog.”

Happy simply glared.

“‘Out of the way,’” he shook his hands at her. “You have to practice it with him! ‘Out of the way.’”

“Not in the mood, Doc,” Happy ground out.

He laughed, pulled her close, planted a kiss on her crown. “Thank you.”

Ralph hopped in place. “Present now?”

“Fine, buddy,” Happy sighed.

Toby heard it before he saw it. The scramble of freshly manicured claws as the puppy scrambled up the steps. By the time the pristinely groomed dog was hopping at his feet, big red bow around his neck, his brain was having trouble processing it.

He scooped the dog into his arms and gave his usual hyper greeting. The dog made quick work of pulling the party hat off his head and chewing on it. “Don’t you clean up nice, pal?” he asked as the dog gnawed on the hat’s pointy tip. “Sylvester must be so happy.”

“Elated,” Sly chirped.

Toby looked between Happy and Walter. “I’m not quite sure how to interpret…”

“He’s yours,” Walter groused. “Well, legally, he’s Happy’s. She adopted him. I’m told that in time I’ll come to be fine with it,” he glanced over at Paige. “No word on when.”

Toby gaped. “You _adopted_ —”

“I had to, you have to be there to sign the paperwork. We can transfer it to your name whenever you want, though.”

“Huh-uh, this is even better,” he laughed, then turned the puppy toward Happy, crouched behind him and affecting a ridiculous voice. “You love me,” he squealed.

Happy crossed her arms. “Absolutely not.”

“You _adopted_ me!” he screeched.

“He’s doing a voice for the animal now,” Walter nodded. “That seems like something that will make it _less_ annoying.”

“Looks like you get to stay, pal,” Toby turned the puppy back to him, squished his face as the puppy licked his nose. “Look at you, you’ve got a collar and everything now.” He turned the tag toward him and Happy bit her lip nervously. “Monte?”

“We had to pick a name, for the paperwork. We can change that too,” Happy said. 

Toby shook his head. “It’s absolutely perfect,” he said.

Happy nodded, unable to hide her smile. “Good.” She turned and gave Ralph a high-five.

* * *

Toby heaved the trash bag into the dumpster. “Let’s go, Monte!” He patted the side of his leg as they headed back inside. He returned to see most of the team gathering their things. “Well, don’t all leave at once, gang,” he said as Monte scampered back to Ralph. 

“Have to,” Paige chirped, all smiles. “Sylvester has to take Sly home,” she began herding them out the door in turn, “And Walter’s coming with me and Ralph for a late show and star walk at the observatory.”

“When you get kicked out because Walter corrects the tour guides, I don’t want to hear a word.”

“Done.”

Ralph gave Monte one last scratch on the ears then approached Toby. “Were you really surprised?”

Toby nodded. “Stunned,” he said as he watched Monte settle down under the coffee table with a chew toy. “I don’t know where my head is today. For that matter I don’t know when you guys even…” he spun on Paige. “There is nothing wrong with your car!”

Paige grinned ear-to-ear. “Not even slightly. Say goodnight, Ralph.”

“Goodnight, Ralph,” he mimicked.

“Kid’s starting to sound like you,” Paige said. “Listen…Walter won’t be home until late.” She poked him gently in the ribs, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Happy birthday, Toby.”

“What’s that grin about?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Cake needs to be put away,” she nodded at the kitchen table. “And I think Happy still needs a little help upstairs.”

Toby locked the door behind Paige, scooped another spoonful of triple chocolate cake out of the bowl before jogging up the steps.

“We gotta go to my cake place more often,” Toby said as he pushed open the door to the roof. “That is just sinfully good.”

“And here I was, thinking that I was cooking up something sinfully good,” Happy said.

Toby stopped cold, paralyzed by the sight of a tent, and Happy, standing next to it, in a steel gray silk slip. Monte, completely unimpressed, proceeded to search the rooftop for any wayward food scraps.

After several seconds of silence, Happy fidgeted. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as a speechless Toby.” She cocked her head. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

Toby’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “I…you look…oh, my God.”

Happy exhaled, relieved. “Good thing.”

Reluctantly, Toby pulled his eyes from her, let them travel to the tent. “What is all this?”

“Doc, if I have to explain it to you…” When he gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher, she quit joking. “Remember, um, the last time we slept up here?”

“After Antartica.” 

“Remember what else happened that night?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “How could I forget, Happy? It was the stuff that dreams are made of.”

Happy nodded, unsure why he was staying rooted where he was. “I just…” she stepped forward, closed the distance between them. “I figured maybe…maybe I’ve put a big enough dent in that two-by-four downstairs. Maybe it’s time to pick up where we left off.”

Toby dragged a hand down his face. “Hap,” he sighed, eyes closed.

“I don’t mean that we’re done working on us, I just…I think we’ve been doing really well lately.”

“We have,” he opened his eyes, nodded. “Happy…this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he smiled tightly. “I mean, ever. This morning…and then this party…and I had _no_ idea, seriously. And then the dog…Monte…I don’t even know what to…nobody has ever…”

Happy smiled so widely her dimples pierced her cheeks. “You are worth the extra effort, Doc.” She took one step and rocked onto the balls of her feet, wrapped her fingers around his neck as she pressed her lips to his.

She felt his hands come to her hips as his lips moved against hers, but seconds later she felt him ease her away, pull back a fraction of an inch, searching her eyes. “You look absolutely amazing in this, Happy,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” she grinned. 

“And I love you…so much.”

“I love you, too.” She pushed herself onto her toes, but he stopped her, a gentle hand to the side of her face, a thumb tracing down her cheek. “Happy, can we put a pin it?” he whispered hoarsely. “I wanna come back to this, I do, I just…I’m not quite there yet.”

Happy dropped onto her heels, looked up at him with confusion. “Not there yet?”

“I am working on it,” he said, voiced pained. “And I’m getting better. I am. But, I think I need a little more time before…”

“I’m not saying everything is fixed—”

“I know that.” He turned his palms out.

“Dammit, Toby, you’re the one who told me to stop apologizing and let’s focus on the future.”

“I still want that. But focusing on moving forward doesn’t mean—”

“Actually moving forward, apparently,” Happy crossed her arms.

“We _are_ moving forward,” Toby took a step forward laid his hands on her elbows. She shrugged him off immediately. “We’re moving forward, Happy. But I don’t think we’re here yet. Do you? I mean,” he slapped his hands over his eyes. “Dammit, of course you do. Sorry.”

“Happy spread her arms, gestured toward herself. “Obviously. Wish we were on the same page. God, I feel like such an idiot in this!” She ducked into the tent.

“Hey, you’re not an idiot,” Toby crouched in the door of the tent, only to have it zipped closed right in his face. “Come on, come out of there.”

He heard the rustling of fabric. “You know what I don’t understand?” She called. “How can you say you want to move forward when you’re holding us at a standstill?” She unzipped the tent flap, having changed into her usually sleep clothes. 

“You had a wardrobe change in there?”

“Walter is coming back, eventually, idiot, did you want him seeing me in that getup?”

“Right,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Happy, what the hell did you think I meant when I said I wanted to press pause on the relationship, if not this?”

“I don’t know, it’s my first time being treated like a Blu-ray player! I am not a machine either, Toby!”

Instead of looking chastened, Toby flashed hot. “Happy, you said you could wait as long as you needed to, so what gives already?”

“You said I didn’t need to apologize anymore, what was I supposed to think?” she shouted. “Just forget it. I’ll sleep up here tonight.” She climbed back into the tent.

“Happy, I said I wasn’t going anywhere, and I’m not! You’ve gotta trust me!”

The flap to the tent zipped behind her without another word.

“Please come downstairs.”

Silence.

“Happy.”

More silence.

He scuffed his shoe against the rooftop. “OK. I’ll leave you alone. But I’ll just be downstairs.”

He backed away from the tent, and Monte followed him down the steps. He dropped onto the couch with a groan. “Idiot,” he chided himself. Monte scrambled onto the cushion beside him. “Like I don’t feel bad enough,” he sighed, dropping his hand to the dog’s head. “What the hell was I thinking, Monte?” 

The dog rolled onto his back, wriggling.

“You’re thinking it’s nothing a belly rub can’t help, huh? Maybe you’re right.” He scratched the dog’s ribs, mulled over the possibilities of what he could say to Happy. In the end, he decided he shouldn’t go back up. When Happy had had enough, she’d had enough, and you just had to let her cool down. He’d try to fix it in the morning, he decided as he stretched out on the couch. Come at it fresh.

* * *

Happy stared at the top of the tent, clenching her jaw and fuming at Toby until she fell asleep. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” she muttered to herself. She was so pissed off she didn’t actively process the criss-cross shadow pattern created by the rooftop lights shining down on the party streamers. Her genius brain processed it though, and the information made itself known once she entered REM sleep.

_I can’t believe that just happened._

_“Believe it, Quinn.” Happy’s eyes shot open. She sat up to see Collins’s silhouette projected on the tent, criss-crossed with his maniacal web._

_No. No, no, no._

_“You said you were gonna bring it. What happened to that promise, huh? Did you really think it was a good idea to leave him on his own? Remember what happened last time he went off on his own? To buy you that ring?”_

_She clamored for the door of the tent, tearing it open—_

She jolted awake in the sleeping bag, panting at the gentle shadows of the streamers against the tent. She lunged for the tent door, but found the roof empty. She gulped the night air, then propelled herself out of the tent and toward the stairs on shaky legs.

* * *

Toby jolted awake again on the couch. Even with Monte tucked against his side, sleep for more than a few minutes had evaded him. He ground his fingertips into his eyes before opening them, then shot bolt upright.

“Holy—” he caught himself once his eyes adjusted enough to make out the silhouette on the chair. “Happy?!? What the hell—”

The silhouette stirred. “I just…” and her voice was thick with tears. “I just, um, I just wanted to check—”

Toby pushed himself into a sitting position. “What’s the matter?”

She launched herself at him, then, arms locking around his shoulders like a vice, shaking against his chest.

“Hey,” he wrapped his arms around her ribs, pressed a kiss against the side of her head. “I’m so sorry. I would never wanna hurt you, Happy.”

She shook her head from side to side. 

“No…” Toby rubbed his palms along her spine, trying to piece the puzzle together. “No it’s not about what happened up there?”

Another head shake, and this time, the fingers of one hand curled into the hair on the back of his head. Toby tucked his chin into her shoulder. “Your subconscious being a jerk?”

Happy took a deep breath, then nodded.

Toby tightened his grip. “Talk to me.”

Another head shake.

“Come on, tell me. It’ll help. Trust the shrink.”

Yet another head shake. “I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”

Toby furrowed his brow at the darkness, rubbed comforting circles into her back. “At the moment, I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I just wanted to be sure you were…I’ll…” she began to pull away. “I’ll go back up…”

“Unless you’d rather stay,” Toby said.

She froze. “I…”

“Happy,” he said. “You can be pissed at me after the sun’s up if you want. Stay.”

Happy lowered her head to his shoulder wordlessly.

“I’m right here, OK?” He rubbed one hand across her shoulder.

She nodded.

“OK. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would never have been completed without the enthusiasm and encouragement of DramaticTendency, who patiently kept me believing that people would still care to read this story, and this mostly fluffy chapter. She's also the biggest Monte Pupper fan out there. Thanks, pal!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I have only recently begun reading fanfic here, but I already have so many favorite stories and authors! I've intentionally been trying to stay away from post-finale fics since I had the idea for this (but I'm chomping at the bit to read them when this is done!) so I'm hoping this isn't overly similar to anything anyone else is doing. 
> 
> Not sure how many chapters this will be yet, but based on my mapping, it's going to be a long, slow burn. Hey, we've got to pass this hiatus some way, right?
> 
> Feedback is welcomed. Thanks for reading!


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